


Cupid's Arrow

by Sugarhihihello



Series: Under One Banner [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Character, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Friendship/Love, Romance, Sensuality, Spirit of Love, background cullavellan, background solavellan, see what i did there lol, spirits IN love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 26,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sugarhihihello/pseuds/Sugarhihihello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana receives word of another spirit living in the world as Cole does and brings her - a young woman named Amy - to Skyhold.</p><p>(Rated T for sensuality, non-sexual nudity, discussions of sexuality.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amy

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning:** technically, in this story, Cole's body is 20-ish and he's been living on this side of the Veil for maybe 5 years at max. Amy's body is 16 and she's been living on this side of the Veil for 10 years. I'm not sure who to consider older. **I don't feel this is a problem at all** , but ~technically~ one of them is legally [in the US] a minor being romantic/sensual/etc. with an adult, so here is your warning. 
> 
>  
> 
> **There is also vague allusion to/mention of possible sexual abuse, and sexuality is discussed pretty thoroughly with regards to the two of them. Just an FYI.**

 

  

> **Table Quest: Cupid’s Arrow**
> 
> _A letter, addressed to Leliana, on homespun paper._
> 
> Sister Nightingale,
> 
> I’ve heard of a young man in your company named Cole, and his somewhat unusual circumstances. My sources say that he has made a place for himself in your organization, and that you are doing well in dealing with him.
> 
> If these reports are true, I have a request to make of you. We attended to a young woman and her daughter during the blight. Their village had been attacked by darkspawn in the night, and they barely made it to our chantry before the child died.
> 
> However, the child did not leave us. Just as we closed her eyes and began to pray for her soul, we heard her voice. Another little girl, identical in every way, stood beside the body of the child who had died.
> 
> Only she was not the same little girl.
> 
> My belief is that she is similar to your Cole, a spirit who has taken human form. She did not remain a child however, and has grown into a healthy young woman in the decade she has stayed with us. I estimate she was around six at the time of her death, and would now be sixteen. She certainly has all the features of a sixteen-year-old girl.
> 
> Her mother, believing her child to be possessed by a demon, no longer wanted her. The child has lived with us. I have protected her, sworn those who knew of her circumstances to secrecy, but she is… an unusual girl.
> 
> Hearing that there is another similar case, I was hoping you might have better resources to care for the girl, with people who might understand her better than the rural Chantry sisters.
> 
> Her name is Amy.
> 
>  
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Sister Miranda

\---

 _“Two of my soldiers, a brother and sister, have family near this chantry. They will enjoy the rest, and will be able to protect the girl and escort her here.” –_ Cullen

\---

Amy arrived on the Inquisition’s doorstep, all five feet three inches of her, during a blizzard. Leliana had asked Solas to be present at the girls’ arrival, in order to determine what exactly she was. Cullen, and several ex-templars, quietly stood by as well.

The three travelers stepped into the main hall, soaked through with chill. They pulled off their cloaks and the bulkiest of their armor and settled around the fire as they delivered their report.

“And you must be Amy,” said Varric, gravitating to the girls’ side. “Cold?”

Her teeth chattered. “Yes, but the fire is nice. Thank you for asking.”

Solas watched her as she stretched out her hands and feet. “She seems more connected to her physical body than Cole,” he observed. “Cole never seems bothered by the cold.”

Amy’s large brown eyes fixed on the elf. “The cold is uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt me.”

“I see.” He stepped toward her, hand resting on his chin.

“How was the ride?” asked Varric, knee up on the center table. “Run into trouble?”

“No.” Amy smiled, but said nothing more.

She also wasn’t blinking.

“The girl is sweet,” said one of the soldiers who had accompanied her. “She had a rather hard time leaving the Chantry, though.”

“What do you mean?” asked Solas.

“She...” The soldier looked at the girl, concern on his face.

Amy finished for him. “I scared him. I screamed and wouldn’t let go of the post. I didn’t want to go.”

Leliana turned to the two in armor. “I hope you didn’t force the girl. If she didn’t want to leave-“

“The Chantry sisters wanted me gone,” Amy said, her eyes dropping to her hands, which had begun to fidget. “They didn’t want me anymore. I was a burden. A problem. Too much.”

The group waited for her to finish speaking, expecting her to ramble the way Cole often did, but she didn’t continue.

“For what it’s worth,” Varric said, rapping his knuckle against her arm. “We’re happy to have you, Kitten.”

She turned her large eyes to Varric and smiled.


	2. Better

Solas wasn’t entirely certain about Amy yet, as she spoke little and didn’t seem to display any of the abilities that Cole had, and until he was certain, Cullen insisted on having guards follow the girl – discreetly.

But since the girl almost never left Varric’s side, the guards ended up following him everywhere.

Solas stepped from his room to observe them.

Amy perched on a chair near the fire, knees curled against her chest, watching Varric write, smiling softly as he did so.

“No!” She cried, putting a hand out. The guard put a hand to his weapon. “You can’t do that to her!”

Varric lifted his eyes, shook his head at the guard, then turned to her. “It’s just a story, Kitten.”

“But- but it’s horrible!”

“He doesn’t really die. She only thinks he has. He’ll wander around alone for a few chapters, thinking she’s abandoned him, and she’ll go to his funeral.”

Amy bit her lip. “That’s almost worse.”

“They find each other again, don’t worry.”

She furrowed her brow. “Why put them through all of that, then?”

Varric spread his hands. “It’s a story. Drama makes for a good story.”

“But it’s _not_ a good story. It’s terrible!”

He chuckled. “Everyone’s a critic.”

“How would you want the story to go?” Asked Solas from where he leaned on the door frame.

“Well…” She thinks for a moment. “It was fine how it was. They finally confessed their feelings to one another. If the story must go continue, they should move to Rivain, like they always talked about, to the cottage by the sea.”

Varric tapped his pen against his temple. “Ground rules, Kitten. You can poke around in my personal life, but stay out of my writing.”

“You told her none of that?” asked Solas.

“Nope.” Varric popped the P.

Solas turned to the girl. “What else can you do?”

She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The elf came and sat in the chair beside her, hands folded. “We’re all trying to understand you, Amy. Your nature. We’ve met someone similar to you, and we’re trying to understand just how similar the two of you are.”

“Similar?” She shook her head. “No one is like me.”

“He likely thought the same. We all did, until we met you.”

She smiled at that.

“So you can hear people’s thoughts?” Asked Solas. “What else?”

“I don’t hear them exactly. I just know them. I know it doesn’t work that way for me. People don’t know what I mean unless I tell them.”

Solas nodded. “Can you make people forget you?”

“Forget me?” She looked horrified. “Why would I want to do that?”

“I’m sure there are many reasons. But could you, if you did want to?”

“I… don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

Varric tilted his head. “How come Cole hasn’t been by to see her?”

“Cole either keeps to himself or goes where he feels people need him; where he can help. It’s possible Amy doesn’t need his help.”

“I’ll go get him,” said Varric. “This should be interesting.”

Once he stood, however, Amy stood, too, and made as if to follow him. “Amy,” said Solas. “Could you stay with me?”

Her hands began to fidget with her sleeves. “But…”

“I’ll be back, Kitten.” Varric grinned. “Don’t worry.”

She lowered herself to the chair, not relaxing, hands gripping her skirt in fists. Solas watched her as she followed Varric with her eyes, biting her lip.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re just curious.” Her eyes flicked to the guard. “He’s the one to worry about. He thinks I’m a demon.”

“You’re not a demon,” Solas said.

She turned, sitting backwards in the chair, watching the door close after Varric. “I know. Mother thought I was a demon, some of the sisters, too. But I’m not.”

“What are you, then?”

“I’m Amy,” she said, still looking at the door.

“Amy was the name of the child who died. Do you remember?”

Amy flinched. “Yes.”

“And you became her. But what were you before?”

She began drumming on her knees with her fingers, tapping at random, as if she was playing the piano. “Amy was missed. She needed Amy, to… I’m Amy. But she didn’t want me. I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t what she wanted. I almost disappeared, but Sister Miranda wanted me, after. Wanted her own Amy, one she could never have. She promised not to, made a vow. But I was too much. The others were afraid, or didn’t like me, or… I don’t fit. I say the wrong things.” She stopped tapping, smoothed her skirt. “I will be better, this time.”

She said the last like a declaration, and lifted her chin as she said it.

“I will be better.”


	3. Lucky

When Varric returned, Amy nearly lept from her chair.

“I’m back!” Varric said as Amy beamed at him, hands clasped to her chest.

“I’m glad you’re back!”

“I could get used to this,” he laughed. “Amy, I want you to meet Cole.”

Cole stepped through the door to the main hall, then, and stopped.

Amy stopped, too.

They were both staring at each other, eyes wide.

“Cole, this is Amy,” Varric continued.

Neither of them were speaking.

Varric looked from one to the other, then to Solas. “What’s going on?”

“They need us to use words,” said Cole.

Amy nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry they didn’t want you. I can make you- No. You don’t want that. You want the pain.”

“I want to keep them, not the pain.”

“You have to have both.”

“I know.”

The quick overlap of their semi-monotone voices, like the ringing of two bells, echoed off the stones of the hall.

“Two of them is a bit much,” said Varric.

Amy’s eyes flicked to him, then back to Cole.

“Don’t say that, Varric.” Cole reprimanded.

“Sorry, Kid.” He rubbed his face. “You two just carry on being strange.”

“He likes me. He likes you, too,” said Cole. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Cole,” said Solas. “Amy is a spirit, like you.”

“Not like me,” the two said in unison.

Amy smiled.

“No, I suppose she’s not like you. She probably has a different nature. I haven’t quite-“

“Watched the woman hold the baby close, the child, drawn to the warmth. The little house with the blue curtains, the world was only two. Then dark night, the angry rain, the screaming. She shattered. Her mother shattered harder.”

Amy kept her gaze on Cole.

“Ah,” said Solas, rocking back on his heels. “Love.”

“Love?” Varric asked.

“You helped,” Cole said. “But it wasn’t right. And you couldn’t make her forget, couldn’t start over.”

“Love and Compassion,” said Varric. “If we get any more, we’re going to turn into a morality play. Or a bad joke. Love and Compassion walk into a bar…” He scratched his chin. “I’ll work on it.”

“Knowing this… separating her from the Chantry was dangerous. And cruel.”

“It hurt her,” said Cole, reaching out a hand, then dropping it to his side.

“And yet, she remains whole.” Solas looked at the girl. “I’m sorry we separated you from them. Leaving those you love… it violated your nature. We should not have done that.”

“Brother and sister, hugging their mother goodbye, wearing the knit hats their younger sisters made them. Throwing snowballs up the mountain. Then warm. New faces. The stone, carrying the name of his love.”

Varric looked up at that.

“Kittens. Gentle. Happy.”

“If you don’t stop doing that,” said Amy, “They won’t like you. They’ll want you to leave. I can teach you how to be…” She listed her head to the side. “Not so much.”

“The Kid’s fine,” Varric said, putting a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “No one’s wanting him to leave.” He looked up for a moment. “Well. I don’t want him to leave.”

“You are lucky,” said Amy, “to be so loved.”

Varric looked like he was gonna protest, then squeezed Cole to his side. “You would know.”


	4. Tabitha

Amy was sweet, quiet, and unobtrusive. She followed Varric around like a lost puppy, which he didn’t seem to mind, for the most part. The problem came the first time the Inquisitor tried to take Varric away from Skyhold.

Cassandra stood by the front gate, arms folded, glaring down at the girl, but speaking to Varric. “You are not here to babysit _spirits_.” She said the last word with an edge, looking at Cole out of the side of her eye. He seemed to be half paying attention to the conversation, half watching a healer work with some wounded soldiers.

Amy’s hands plucked at her sleeves, fingers tapping against the back of her hand.

“Seeker, I don’t know what to tell you-“ Varric started, but Solas cut him off.

“Amy is in a fragile state at present. She is a spirit of love. Like Cole, she must act according to her nature. To do otherwise is incredibly distressing. She was already forcibly removed from those she loved – the Chantry sisters. I worry about doing it to her again.”

“A spirit of love?” Cassandra’s eyebrows went up at that and she studied the girl for a moment before making a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “One was _plenty_. And what at you saying? Is she in love with Varric?”

Varric winced.

“Not in the way you’re thinking of,” said Solas. “Love comes in many forms. Paternal affection, friendship… I suspect she’s drawn to these qualities in him. The way he cares for everyone around him.”

The dwarf looked... awkward.

“I’m sorry,” said Amy. “I-“

“They won’t send you away,” said Cole. “They didn’t send me away. You just have to help.”

Amy spun to Cassandra. “I can cook, and clean, and work in the gardens. I’m good with babies, too. Not older children, though, but I can help! I can be useful!”

“That’s all very well,” said the Seeker. “But you still can’t come with us. It’s too dangerous for a young girl with no way to protect herself. You’ll get yourself killed.”

Cole took more interest in the conversation, then, drifting closer to Amy. “You need to be near what makes you _you_.” He reached out and took the girl’s hands, then both of them disappeared.

Cassandra jumped. “Where did they go?”

Solas scanned the courtyard. “I suspect we won’t know unless they want us to know.” He gave a shake of his head. “I was unaware Cole could take others with him when he did that.”

The Seeker made another disgusted noise. “Let’s go. Cole will keep her from hurting anyone.”

“Really?” The elf’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “When did you start trusting Cole?”

“I didn’t say I _trust_ him, I just…” She threw up her hands. “Let’s go.”

 

\---

 

Cole took her to the tavern. Amy shied away from the noisy swell of people, staying to his side. He led her up the stairs to his usual haunt. They both sat by the railing, hands wrapped around the banister. Amy poked her legs through the slats and hugged the rail.

“Do you see?” He asked.

Amy looked down at all the people… at Maryden singing, lingering on certain phrases as she watched Sera out the corner of her eye; at Iron Bull’s booming laugh as he slapped Krem on the back; at Sutherland beaming with pride as he and his mage friend discussed their next assignment.

“Yes.”

“I like the quiet up here, but you need people.” He made a sweeping gesture at the room. “These people will work, I think?”

She nodded, warmth in her chest radiating with the affection bouncing between the tavern patrons.

A soft mew came from behind them, and Amy turned to see a white kitten with a few golden patches crawl out from behind a barrel.

“Cole, look!” But Cole was gone.

She held out a hand to the kitten and it sniffed her, then crawled into her lap. Amy stroked her ears and-

Suddenly, Cole was back, holding a piece of fish wrapped in a dirty cloth. The cat immediately abandoned Amy’s lap for Cole’s offering.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

Cole frowned at the question. “I don’t think I can say it.”

Amy heard it in his thoughts, though, and in the kitten’s. _The particular sound the mother cat had made as it licked her fur._

“You haven’t named her? A person name? She needs a name.”

He stared at the kitten, daintily nibbling at her lunch.

“Cat.”

“No, Cole.” Amy laughed. “Like Varric does. Naming things.”

Cole rocked onto his heels and thought, then said, “Tabitha.”

“You just got that out of Sera’s head,” she said, eyes pointing to where Sera was staring at a serving girl and chewing her lip. “And you should tell Varric you heard Sera think of Tabitha’s… cat… in that context. You’ll make his entire day.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And if you tell Tabitha you named your kitten after her, you’ll make _her_ day. But you can’t make her forget. It won’t work unless she knows it was you who did it.” Tabitha had finished her meal and was licking her paws. Amy scooped the kitten up and deposited her in Cole’s arms. “Try it. Take the kitten downstairs and wait until Tabitha sees it. When she asks her name, tell her.”

She watched as he followed her instructions, standing awkwardly against a post until the serving girl came by with drinks and exclaimed over the kitten, asking to hold her. Cole placed the animal gently in the girl’s arms.

And when Tabitha asked what the cat’s name was…

“Her name is Tabitha. After you.”

Tabitha’s cheeks glowed pink and she smiled. “Well aren’t you the sweetest thing.”

When Cole appeared beside Amy again, the cat in his pocket, he had two warm sticky buns in his hands.

“She gave me sweets,” he said, and handed them both to Amy. “I told her I didn’t want them, but she gave them to me anyway.”

“Do you know anyone who needs a sticky bun?”

He thought for a moment, then said. “Yes.”

“Let’s go, then.”


	5. Sticky Buns

Cole wanted to put the sticky buns on the table. Amy convinced him to put them on a plate and _then_ on the table. He reached to take her elbow and disappear them again, but she stopped him.

“You should be here when they arrive.”

“Why?”

She could see his plan in his mind, and he could see hers, but she explained in words. “They miss their brother. The sweets will help them today, but having an older boy to play with will help them longer.”

Cole fidgeted.

“You can introduce them to Tabitha.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but a small voice from the doorway asked, “What are you doing?”

The two spirits turned to see a brother and sister, dirty-faced with less than eleven years between them.

“This is Cole,” said Amy, gesturing to him. “He brought you some sticky buns.”

The children's eyes lit up at the sight of the treats, and they shyly came to sit at the table and snack on the treats.

“I like your hat,” said the girl, older by several years.

Cole beamed. “Thank you!”

“Can I wear it?”

Cole swept it from his head and put it on the girl. It was more of a tent than a hat, and her brother giggled.

\---

The children kept the kitten. When their mother returned from the healing tents to find her children laughing for the first time in days, she immediately adopted the kitten, and accepted the strange boy she had previously avoided. The children were climbing on him, an experience he didn’t quite seem to understand, and all three of them took turns wearing his hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One difference between Compassion and Love is compassion acts for the sake of being kind, whereas love acts for the sake of the connection between itself and the other person. Cole just wants to help. Amy wants to help in order to build relationships. 
> 
> #fanfic gettin real deep lol 
> 
> Also the childrens’ mother is the healing woman Cole tries to help by saying she couldn’t do anything to heal the man. Their older brother is a soldier stationed at the keep in the Western Approach… one of the wyvern shits the drill sergeants are always yelling at, lol.


	6. Reading

It was getting dark when they left the family and headed back to the tavern. It was at its busiest, but Cole slipped between the patrons like a shadow. Amy, however, kept getting stepped on and pushed around.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry. Can I get by?”

A booming voice called, “Hey!”

Amy froze.

“Let the girl through, damnit.” A big hand accompanied the voice, pushing a drunk couple out of the way.

When Amy turned around, she saw the biggest person she had ever seen, and on top of it all, he had horns. For a moment she was terrified until she recognized him as the man who loved the Chargers, the center of their makeshift family. The Iron Bull looked completely different from the ground than he had from the third floor.

Cole appeared then at Amy’s elbow, making the big man jump.

“The Iron Bull,” said Cole. “This is Amy.”

“Yeah. I know. Aren’t you supposed to be watching her?”

“I _was_ watching.”

“Not… what I meant. I meant are you looking after-“ The big man sighed, rolling his eye. “Just keep her from getting crushed, alright?”

“Hey, Cole!” Krem gave the boy a tilt of his chin. “When did you want to finish our book?”

The spirit smiled, voice all joy. “Now?”

Krem laughed. “Alright. Go see if Sera’s busy.”

Amy saw the coiling of Cole’s muscles that signaled he was going to vanish and she pulled on his sleeve. “No. Use the stairs.”

Cole frowned.

“Sera doesn’t like it.”

Krem laughed as the other boy walked up the stairs. “Are you his babysitter?”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate.

Bull laughed. “Get this, Krem. _Cole_ is babysitting _her_.”

“What? Poor boy can’t even tie his shoelaces. How’s he supposed to-“

Cole appeared then, kneeling on an empty table by the door. Everyone but Amy jumped, Bull letting off a streak of Qunari curses.

“Sera’s ready,” said Cole, blinking out of sight again.

“Right.” Krem took up the book with one hand and headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Amy followed after.

 

 --- 

[[This scene is inspired by [this piece of fan art](http://last-heroine.tumblr.com/post/106022841545/krem-cole-and-sera-spending-some-quality-time) which is absolutely lovely and perfect]]

"Oi, who's this?" Sera was laying upside down, feet up on the wall, head hanging off her cushioned sill. She tossed a pillow at Krem when he came in and he caught it square in the stomach with a distinctive _oof_.

“I’m Amy,” she said, stepping to the side of the small space to make room for the two boys… and Cole’s hat.

“Don’t really answer the question, though, does it?” Sera flipped right-side-up and swiped Cole’s hat, putting it on her own head and settling back on the sill.

“She’s… like me. But not,” said Cole.

Sera made a face. “Thanks. That’s real’ helpful.”

“I’m a spirit,” said Amy. “Like Cole. But not the same kind.”

The elf’s face turned a shade less friendly. “Terrific. More _spirits_.” She held a hand up to the girl as if she was threatening her with a knife. “Keep out of my head.”

Krem settled on the other end of the bench and waved the book. “No fighting. Reading.”

Cole pressed in close beside Krem, wanting to see the pictures. The older boy put an arm around the spirit, holding the book out so he could see.

Sera made a mocking face, baring her teeth at Amy, then settled into a mass of pillows – likely stolen, given the variety of styles and shapes – and ignored her.

Once Krem’s voice filled the little alcove, Amy ignored everything else, too. The book was one of Varric’s… more colorful works. Between the actual story and Sera’s running commentary and Cole’s questions, it was much more than just a book.

“Why doesn’t he ask her about the flowers?” asked Cole.

“What flowers?” Krem asked.

“Stop adding to the story, Cole.” Sera kicked one of his feet. “There’s no flowers.”

“Petals pulled to ask a question, lining the wooden box with-“

He suddenly stopped, his arm dropping to his side.

“Cole?” Krem jostled him on his shoulder.

“Did he fall asleep?” Sera kicked his foot harder.

“Seems like it.” He shifted Cole until he was comfortably nestled against his chest, resting his arms on his back. “I’m going to keep reading. His fault if he misses out.”

“He’s not used to having a body yet,” said Amy for the first time in over an hour. “He can’t tell when it’s getting tired until he can’t stay awake anymore.”

Sera let out a burbling giggle. “So he just passes out?”

“He probably doesn’t sleep for days at a time,” said Amy, shrugging. “That’s how I used to be.”

Suddenly reminded of what the girl was, Sera made another face.

Cole made soft snores on Krem’s chest.

“Right. I’m going on,” he said, then kept on reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've studied Cole more, and... the part about him sleeping (and Amy sleeping) wouldn't ever happen. But I thought the scene was cute and didn't want to erase it, so. FYI they don't actually sleep. Sorry! XD


	7. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up 15 min late with starbucks* Anyone still interested in this fic? ;)

Cole was in the garden, carefully escorting insects away from the special potted herbs, carrying them in his palms to other, less useful plants. He kept having to push his hair out of his face so he could see, and with the wind blowing and hands full of creatures, he was having a lot of trouble. The wind had made it hard to keep his hat on, and he had left it in Amy’s care shortly after they went outside.

Amy had been sitting on the grass beside the plants, quietly watching him, enjoying the feel of the soft, hazy warmth in his chest at having her nearby. He felt his friends like one might feel a kitten coming to curl up on your chest – comforting and heavy on his heart, gentle weights that kept him from the creeping darkness, from losing sight of himself.

“Come here, Cole,” she said, standing.

He wavered in the center of the garden, hands cupped, using his shoulder to move his hair out of his face.

“Put the bugs down, then come here,” she amended. And he did, standing in front of her, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Can I do something that will help?” She gestured to the ground. “You need to sit down.”

He smiled as he folded his long limbs, collapsing himself down to a manageable level. She could feel his thoughts. _She’s helping me_.

She wondered how often that happened, careful to guard the thought from him as she had it. _Does anyone ever help him to help people?_

She pulled one of the low gardener’s stools over to where he sat, perching on it so she was only a little taller than him, sitting so close he had to lean away to keep from touching her.

Amy pulled him back, gentle fingertips on his shoulder.

She began humming under her breath, a Chantry hymn she had learned as a child, and threaded her fingers through his hair, combing out the tangles the wind had created. He watched her, eyes wide, looking almost frightened, but she could feel the kitten-warmth in his chest get warmer as she divided the long strands around his face and wove them together, tugging gently.

She braided his hair against his head, humming as she worked, turning his limp and scraggly hair into a loose crown around his face. A smile broke out, surprised, on his face, and held, filled with joy as he watched her. His affection for her seemed to shiver every time her fingertips brushed his face, and she found herself dragging her nails across his scalp just to watch that gentle feeling in his heart dance. She could hear his feelings – loud – _so happy, so cared for, so_ _ **myself**_ _with someone who never forgets_.

When the small crown was completed, she gathered the rest of his hair to join the short braid at his shoulder. She tugged off the blue ribbon from her low ponytail, her own hair whipping in the wind, and used it to tie the braid tight, wrapped the ends several times around then tied it tight again.

“There.”

He looked down at the ribbon and frowned. “It doesn’t look like yours.”

She opened her mouth to ask, but saw it in his mind, the little blue bow she tied in her hair. _Pretty_ , he had thought, wanting to touch it.

Amy smiled and tugged the ribbon out. “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.” Instead of knots and a basic wrapping, she tied it like she did her own, a long-looped bow with ribbons trailing free.

He beamed.

“Now your hair won’t get in your face.”

“Thank you!” He twirled the ribbon in his fingers, that warmth in him so strong now, smiling.

She ran her hand over the sleek shape of her work, letting her thumb trail over his forehead, wanting to make his heart glow brighter. The smile wavered on his face, eyes going wide as her hand cupped the side of his face. The warmth in his chest turned into something else, a bright – _so bright_ – pinprick of something sharp and powerful. She flinched away. _Did I hurt him?_

The bright light soothed back into warmth. He grabbed her hand to keep her from moving away. “You didn’t hurt me.”

The wrappings on his hands were softer than she would have thought, and his fingertips were cold in the mountain air. And he was holding her hand in both of his. And he was smiling, the wide grin reaching his eyes, making them glitter between his blonde lashes.

Something electric and soft at the same time reached out and wove itself through her ribs and her hair and around her waist and through her bones, making her feel more solid, more real than she had in years.

He wrinkled his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down at herself, not pulling her hand free. “I don’t think anything is wrong.”

“But you’re frightened.”

She shook her head. “No. Just surprised.”

Amy could feel him worrying, probing at her with his mind, sensing a hurt and trying to find where it came from. _I’m not hurt, Cole._ She nearly shouted it in her head, trying to get his attention.

She felt him pull away, but a lingering worry still pressed along her skin. “I’m fine.” She took her hand away, and turned back to the garden. “Go back to your work.”

He did as she asked, carefully ferrying the bugs from one corner of the garden to the other, watering the herbs and pulling troublesome weeds, but she could feel him keep aware of her, watching for signs that she was somehow misleading him.

 _How does she do that?_ He thought, his eyes on her as he waited for the pump to fill his pitcher. _No one can ever hide from me._ When he reached to sense her, all he heard was what she wanted him to. The rest was jumbled, nothing clear enough to see.

 

\---

 

Late that night, when she tucked herself into the blanket – _She always has a blanket, even though she isn’t cold. The blanket made the others at the Chantry love her, made them see her as a little girl and not a monster. But she’s not a monster. She doesn’t need it here. Why does she keep it?_ – and closed her eyes – _She sleeps, too. Really sleeps, regularly, not dropping off whenever she has to. That made others love her, too. It also keeps her safe. She tells me I should sleep but I don’t know how to turn it off._ – Cole perched beside her pile of sacks, the makeshift bed she’d created in the corner of the tavern’s attic. He wrapped his arms around his knees, watching her.

 _She never minds_ , he thought. _Other people mind it when you stare at them. People aren’t supposed to stare at other people. But she doesn’t mind._

“How do you hide from me?” He asked.

Amy grinned, her cheek smushed against the pillow Cole had taken from Dorian’s room – _He has so many and he doesn’t need half of them_. – when he realized she needed one _– Another thing to prove she wasn’t a monster._ “I can’t hide everything,” she said with a laugh.

He frowned. “But why do you hide at all?”

He could sense her thoughts, flickering fast, before she scrambled them, and he whispered them back to her. “Differences are dangerous. Needle-eyes and whispers. I don’t belong. I’m not what they wanted. I’m too much. Too much. And he-" Cole stuttered over finding himself inside her mind. "He can see every difference.” Cole felt the hurt get louder as he named it. “You may have been too much for them, but not for the people here.” _Not for me. You aren’t too much for me_ , he thought, but didn’t say. _Why didn’t I say it?_ He frowned, curious with himself.

“Not for you,” she whispered, and he realized in the sound of it that she was about to cry.

“I did it wrong,” he fluttered his hands, unsure what part was wrong. “I’ll start over.”

“Don’t.” The word was sharp. “Don’t ever.” She sat up, eyes angry through their glittering. She said it again for emphasis. “Don’t ever.”

He nodded. “I won’t.”

Amy settled back down and stared at the ceiling, stretched her arms over her head.

 _I made her angry_ , Cole thought, worrying at the ends of the ribbon still in his hair. The braid was frizzing, soft tendrils everywhere, but he hadn’t taken it down. Didn’t want to. _I don’t want to make her angry. I want to help._

“Don’t make me forget.” She said. “But you can try from the beginning again if it helps.”

"You're not a monster," he said quietly. "We're not demons. Solas says demons are spirits who go against what they are. But you are always you, and I am always me, so we aren't monsters."

She smiled, and Cole felt what he always did when he actually managed to help. Solid, real, whole in a way that he never felt otherwise.

_It's better now._

 

\---

 

They were quiet as she tried to sleep, the affection between the people in the tavern acting as a lullaby, with Cole's thoughts and emotions the harmony.

Amy could see her ribbon in his head, see him twirling it between his fingers, see it in her hair, see it in his. She could feel it on him, how he didn’t want to give the ribbon back.

“You can keep it,” she mumbled as she snuggled deeper in the blanket.

“But what will you use?”

She opened her eyes to see him earnestly watching her face, his arms still around his knees. Amy reached out a hand and tugged a loose thread off the sleeve scrunched up around his wrist. She wound it around her own, several times, tucking the ends under themselves.

“I'll use this.”

“But it's not pretty.”

She tugged her wrist under the blanket, snuggling the thread closer to the sweetness in her chest at the sight of her ribbon in his hair, his eyes on her face, his smile as her fingers brushed his face.

"It's fine."


	8. Tangled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **CW** : sexual abuse/rape is vaguely hinted at in this chapter. It's not graphic, but it's mentioned.

Amy braided his hair every morning, hands in his hair, on his face. He found himself waiting all night for sunrise – where before he didn't really mind the night or day – because it meant sharing that with her.

 

\---

 

“She’s good for him,” said Leliana, reading a report. “People’s opinions of the boy have become much more positive since she got here. He’s still odd, but people see it as charming and sweet now instead of creepy.”

Josephine giggled. “He is sweet… on Amy, at least.”

Lavellan and Leliana joined with giggles of their own.

“Can spirits even fall in love?” asked Cullen. “Is Cole going to get all moon-eyed? Start stammering and blushing?”

“You mean like you do?” asked Leliana.

Cullen proceeded to stammer and blush. Lavellan tried to hide her smile.

“That would be _precious_ ,” said Josephine, sighing. “Love and Compassion. In love.”

“More than just Cole might be falling for her.” Lavellan asked. She leaned her elbows on the war table. “A spirit of love could affect anyone.”

The spymaster bit on her thumbnail. “We might need to protect the girl from being taken advantage of.”

Josephine sounded scandalized. “No one at Skyhold would-“

Leliana gave her a simple look and the other woman went quiet.

"I'll spread the word to my officers to keep an eye on the men,” said Cullen. “I’m sure Iron Bull already watches the chargers.”

 

\---

 

Amy stayed by Cole's side now, following him around Skyhold as he helped, stopping him before he scared people, explaining how to say things so he didn’t need to make them forget. Where she had once followed Varric around, she now followed Cole.

The dwarf had sighed happily and stretched when someone pointed it out. “Good. I like the girl fine, but… a man needs his space.”

“And Cole doesn’t?” Cassandra had asked.

“No.” The answer had come in unison from Varric… and Cole himself.

“Cole!” Cassandra had nearly jumped out of her chair. “How long have you been standing there?”

He shrugged. “Since I got here.”

Varric laughed. “Where is Amy?”

“Eating dinner. She…” He made a face. “She eats.”

“And you didn’t think to eat with her?” Varric asked. He hurried on before Cole’s disgusted look could get worse. “Just to stay with her?”

“Why? She doesn’t need my help with eating dinner.”

Varric sighed and shook his head. “Forget it, Kid.”

Cole tipped his head slightly. “Should I have stayed?”

“People like the company when they eat.”

“Oh.”

Varric began to explain more, but Cole was drifting away, eyes intent on a man in the corner with his face in his hands.

“If she’s a spirit of love, and she’s attached herself to the Kid…” Varric scrubbed at his face with his hand. “Does that mean she thinks they’re… together?”

“She followed you around,” Cassandra grinned. “Are you saying the two of you were…” She paused just like he had, “Together?”

“Well I can’t help it if the girl was sweet on me.” He grinned back. “Many women are.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Maybe we should get Solas to ask her about it.”

“Why Solas?” She asked. “Why not you?”

He made a face. “I don’t really want to be the one to tell her Cole won’t ever be interested in her.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t?”

Varric made a waffling motion with his hand. “He’s not the type.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he doesn’t have your romantic nature, Seeker.”

The tips of Cassandra’s ears went pink. “My _what?_ ”

Varric was already standing – retreating really. “I’m going to go find Solas.”

 

\---

 

Solas found the spirit girl on the second floor of the tavern, legs swinging through the slats in the rails, arms holding the bannister in a hug, an empty soup bowl discarded to the side. From where she sat, she could see Maryden singing, and a dozen people talking.

“Amy.” Solas knelt on the ground beside her. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

She didn’t look up at him. “About Cole.”

“Yes. About Cole.” He took a breath. “Cole is a spirit of compassion. He takes care of others not because he cares about them, but because-“

“I know.” She turned her unblinking eyes to him. “He does care, though, about Varric. About Krem. Sera. Lady Lavellan. Others.”

“Really?”

“Parts of all of you have become a part of him. You tie him here.”

Solas settled himself on the wooden floor more comfortably, tucking a knee against his chest. “What ties you here?”

“First it was mother, then it was the sisters at the Chantry. Enough of them loved me to make me stay. But… eventually, I tied _myself_ to this world. It’s still… I’m not sure how real I really am, but I’m real enough to last without someone to love me. As long as I love someone else. Or if I’m near it - affection. I couldn’t exist alone, or with cold hearts, I think.”

“You’re certainly very self-aware.”

“It took time. Cole is still new, and he has the luxury of not needing acceptance in order to stay. If I acted as he did when I first got here, if I didn’t learn _fast_ , I would have died, and people needed me to live.”

“Cole can afford to not be liked.” Solas tilted his head at the girl. “I wonder if you’re becoming a part of this world, or if you’re here because you’re learning to love yourself - loving Amy - and that sustains you.”

Amy’s eyes grew wider, her mouth opening. “I hadn’t considered that.”

There was a pause, then Solas said, “Varric was concerned that you took Cole’s kindness as something else. I wanted to hear your thoughts.”

The girl smiled. “Don’t you think if he loved me, I would know?”

“Fair point.”

“He loves Varric, and-“ She laughed. “He loves every animal in Skyhold. But not me. Not yet. I’m a project. Someone who needs his help.” A small smile curled on her face. “But he does care. We’re friends.”

Another pause, as they both stared down at the tavern in companionable silence, listening to the singer’s voice.

“You’re curious, and not just about Varric’s question,” said Amy. “You want to know if Lady Lavellan is still interested in you.”

“I- no. Please don’t-“

“You want to know, and you don’t want to know. You’re _tangled_.” She emphasized the last word. “Because knowing would…” Her eyes sparkled. “Change everything.”

Solas felt himself blush. He never blushed. “I don’t want to know.”

Amy said nothing, just stared at him. “Then I won’t tell you.” She looked back down at the first floor.

Solas gave a low chuckle. “I deserved that.” He stood up, brushing the dust from his leggings. “Have many people tried to ask you to discern the hearts of others for them?”

“None have actually asked. They’re used to Cole just blurting everything out, so mostly they just come sit by me and hope I say something. Or they make up reasons to walk past me with those that they care for.”

The elf laughed again. “They do that to Cole as well.”

“Only he usually tells them some horrible, dark secret neither of them wanted to know.” She shakes her head. “I’m working on it.”

“You are?”

“Yes. I’m trying to teach Cole about people. That they are more than hurts to heal.”

Solas smiled. “You’re good for him.”

She turned her solemn brown eyes up to his. “I hope so.”


	9. Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> background solavellan! :P

Solas had recommended to Lavellan that they not separate Amy from those she has formed a connection with, as it could be dangerous for her. At his recommendation, Lavellan always made sure to leave someone behind who cared for her – either Varric, or Cole, or Solas. If it was essential that all three go, Iron Bull was an acceptable alternative, though she was drawn to his relationship with the Chargers more than any connection she had with the man himself.

“We need your stealth,” she explained to Cole now. “It shouldn't be a long trip. Maybe two weeks or less.”

“Alright.” Cole grabbed his things, pulling his leather armor on over his clothes before the Inquisitor was halfway down the stairs.

Amy chewed her lip, trying to scramble her thoughts so he wouldn't realize she didn't want him to go, but of course he saw pieces.

He sat in the middle of the floor, matching her cross-legged position so their knees were touching. “I have to go,” he said. “They need me.”

Amy nodded.

 _But I'm not **leaving** you,_ he thought. _It's not like the Chantry. It won't ever be._

She looked up and met his eyes, and he smiled, sensing the ache in her heart easing.

“You're getting good at that,” she said. “The shouting in your head so I can hear you.”

He smiled wider, then tugged the blue ribbon from his messy braid and holding it out on the palm of his hand so she could start it over, humming and dragging her fingertips through his hair.

Every morning now, this ritual, and she could see the changing shape of his affection. She felt it shaking with anticipation as the sun came up. Sometimes it was so loud, his giddy joy would wake her up long before she was ready. She'd lay there, feigning sleep, feeling him fidget with impatience.

Every time she touched him he would smile like it was new, would watch her face as she braided his hair, letting her fingertips touch him more. First, just the outline of his face like before, then she gathered her courage and felt around his ears, his cheekbones, the tip of his overlarge nose, trying something new every day. Feelings buzzed in her diaphragm at every new place. The freckles on his cheek, the line of his throat, the fuzz of boy-stubble he might never grow into, the shape of his chin, the soft downy hair at the nape of his neck. She tried to make it casual, tried to fit each new touch into the braiding process, but sometimes he knew.

 _She's happy_ , he'd think. _Touching me makes her happy. Makes me happy. Amy._

Some mornings, he thought nothing but her name. _Amy. Amy. Amy._

Now, she watched that small star of light in his chest, brilliant in its brightness, and how it seemed to pulse brighter at every touch. It was always there when she touched him, and sometimes when she didn’t, and it seemed to be getting bigger, more violently bright.

 _He's leaving,_ she suddenly thought. _I'm going to be alone._

“You're not alone,” said Cole. “Varric is staying. And so is Solas. You can help mix the paints.”

She enjoyed the pretty colors, how they felt on her fingers, how every single color had a different tone to it, one that apparently only she and Cole could hear.

Cole was smiling, the tight ball of light easing back into the simple warmth he always had for her. “You like the paint.”

“I do.” She ducked her head, grinning, and he tilted it back up with a finger. Amy gasped at the touch, eyes wide. He rarely ever reached out to touch her, always waited for her to put her hands on him, and even then, only in the mornings when she did his hair, and at night sometimes when she was falling asleep.

He read something in her and pulled his hand away, and she bit her lip to keep from thinking about how much she wanted it back. _Too much. Too much._

“You have to go,” she said, straightening the bow at the end of his braid.

He nodded. “I'll take you to Solas?” He said it like a question as he settled his hat on his head.

She followed, listless, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore the fear churning in her stomach.

 

\---

 

“So,” Dorian said casually as they climbed across the Maker-forsaken Hinterlands. Again. “What do you think of our other spirit friend?”

There was quiet, then Cole said, “Were you asking me?”

“No, I was asking the bears.” He laughed. “Yes, I was asking you.”

The mage turned to see the young man fidgeting with the wrappings on his hands, keeping his face carefully down so he wouldn’t lose his footing among the weeds.

“She needs me, but not in the way others need me. She just needs me to be me.”

Cassandra scrunched her nose at that. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” They paused beneath some trees while Lavellan consulted their map, grumbling s she did so. “I want to help. That makes me _me_. Amy wants people. Being near them makes her more herself. But not all people. Just some. Special people.” He paused, and Dorian swore he heard something warm in the boy’s voice. “And I’m one of her special people.”

 

\---

 

Amy sat on the couch, watching Solas paint. She had mixed the colors with his guidance and now stared as the blank wall became something more. If she focused, she could see the shape of the image in Solas’ mind, his intention, but she preferred to see it unfold as he went.

His affections were wild things, like roaring flames with sharp teeth that he kept bound and chained so they wouldn’t consume him. He was unfamiliar with the kinder, softer loves inside his heart – the open, trusting, easy affection he had with his friends in the Inquisition, the guardianship he had taken of Cole. He had only befriend spirits, before, and spirits were simple, easy. They were exactly what they were, with no hidden meaning. He could trust spirits to always be themselves. People, with their unlimited potential, often disappointed him, failed him. She could see all that as he tried to force himself not to love Lavellan, tried to chain that particular flame tighter than the others.

Amy smiled because he was failing.

 

\---

 

After four days on the road, Cole's hair was a disaster. He had never taken out the braid, but traveling had all but destroyed it. It was driving Cassandra to distraction.

“Look, Cole, if you need someone to braid your hair for you, I can do it.”

He startled. “No!”

“Alright. Forget I mentioned it.”

Cole shook his head. “It's not about the braid.”

Lavellan chuckled from across the fire. “It's about the _girl_.”

Cassandra tried not to look overly interested. “You mean Amy?”

“Soft fingers and low humming, warm hands on his face, stealing more than she thinks she can ask for. She tries not to breathe too loudly as the light flickers. Doesn't want it to go out. Doesn't want to want more than this but then he holds her name in his head and he smiles.”

The Seeker's face has turned into that rapturous, pretty one she only has when she's reading. “Cole!” She all but sighs. “I had no idea.”

“You're the last one to have an idea, then,” Lavellan snorts. “It's all Josephine can talk about.”

Cole frowns. “What do you mean?”

The Inquisitor just giggles. “Nevermind, Cole. You'll figure it out.”

He frowns. “You think we're like you and Cullen.”

“I... suppose... that's what I'm saying, yes.”

Cole ponders this, tilting his head.

“If you won't let her braid it for you, then at least take the damned thing out,” Dorian grumbles. “You look a rat crawled onto your head and made a nest.”

The boy pats at his head, not sure what the problem is, but he's felt Dorian worrying as they travelled, looking at him with distaste, so he tugs the blue ribbon free, letting his hair settle back around his face. He weaves the ribbon in between his fingers, then wraps it around his wrist, the way he saw Amy do, tucking it down into his sleeve, under the wrapping of his hands so it won't get dirty.

“Better?” He asks.

“You need a bath,” is all Dorian will say.


	10. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> background Cullavellan!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at [this amazing fan art of Cole from this chapter](http://hikoosaki.tumblr.com/post/111975520238/scene-from-cupids-arrow-by-andrastesass) made by Hiko Osaki on tumblr. :3

Cullen leaned his elbows on the wall of the battlements, staring down the mountain at the simple road his soldiers had carved out at Josephine’s insistence. Amy had been sitting against the wall and he had not noticed her yet, his back to her. She saw the images in his mind – _stolen kisses, the first kiss, long talks as they held hands, her tucked beside him as he checked on his men_ – and watched his gloved hands rub the stone, smiling, but still sad.

The feelings in his heart were dampened by the distance and the worry and the loneliness, but if she looked close, she could see it there, like a small flower made of pure white light. It was a tender, gentle thing, but fierce and strong, with such capacity to grow. It wasn’t the same as what she had seen in Cole, but that light…

“Cullen.” She stood up, dusting off her skirt as she did so.

The man jumped, spinning, hand going for his blade.

“Don’t creep up on people like that.”

She didn’t tell him she had been there longer than he had, but instead came to stand beside him, the question about to burst out of her. “Can I ask you something?”

His brow furrowed, but he relaxed slightly. “I suppose.”

Amy peered at that white-hot flower curling in the Commander’s chest. “You love the Inquisitor.”

Cullen's cheeks turned pink. “That's not really something you should-”

“I'm not like Cole. I won't tell her. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't... Can't you ask someone else?”

Amy shook her head. _He doesn't understand._ “I can see people's love for each other, but I can't _feel_ it like they feel it. I can see your love for Lahria. But I don't know what it feels like to you.”

He looked over his shoulder for an excuse, a way to escape the conversation.

“ _Please_?” She made her eyes wide, tilting her face up to his in the way she knew made people like her.

Cullen sighed, bracing himself on the wall like he was gathering strength.

“It's... distracting. Maddening. When I see her, I just... lose myself. All my careful planned things to say. They vanish. I turn into someone younger and clumsier and... I don't know.” He laughed. “Even when I'm not with her, I think about her all the time and it's like I get lost in daydreams in the middle of my work.”

Amy frowned, the frown deepening as he continued. “She makes you lose yourself? That doesn't sound right.”

Cullen shook his head. “She makes me more myself as well. Stronger. Better.” He flexes his hand inside his glove. “She makes me a better man.”

“But what does it feel like? Is it warm?”

He laughed. “I suppose so, yes. And light.”

Her breath caught, imagining the star inside Cole's chest. “Light?”

“Like I'm floating. Dizzy, all the blood rushing to my head. She touches me and I could run for days without tiring. Static electricity all over.” He realized what he was saying and cleared his throat, ears going red. “That is... um.”

Amy bit her lip, smiling as the little flower in Cullen's chest unfurled its petals, growing bolder as he spoke. “That's how it feels to think of her? Like right now?”

“To a lesser degree, yes.”

 _Oh Cole._ Amy felt her own lightness, a giddy rush in her gut at the idea. “Do you like saying her name? In your head?”

He laughed again. “You ask the oddest questions."

“Do you?”

The Commander's face was burning red, but he was still smiling. “I suppose I do.”

She could hear it in him. _Lahria. Lahria. Lahria._ The way he felt it, sounding like _mine_ , synonymous with the nameless hope he'd had for years, never looking at it too closely because it couldn't be possible. _Lahria. But it was possible – to be this happy, to have her. Lahria._

Amy giggled and it startled him back to where he was, to who he was.

“I really should, um...” He stepped back to the door to his office.

“Thank you for answering me.”

He gave a weak smile, then softly closed the door behind him.

 

\---

 

They stopped in Val Royeaux on their way back, something about Josephine and a meeting. Cassandra had taken to leaning against the wall and glowering at people, barely grunting when Dorian tried to engage her in conversation.

“Ah, proper shops,” said Dorian. “Proper wine-selling shops. I'll be back.” He had wandered off, soon to find that Cole was keeping pace beside him.

They wandered through a dozen merchant stalls and stores before Dorian noticed Cole was missing.

Dorian figured if he noticed Cole was missing, Cole must not have intentionally abandoned him, and he went looking.

He found the boy standing near a market stall, fidgeting with his hand wraps and staring.

“Did you find something interesting?”

The woman who owned the stall startled at Dorian's comment, but quickly smiled. “Need something for your lady love? I have many pretty things she might like.”

Dorian smirked, then pinched Cole's arm.

Cole yelped, and the woman startled again to see him standing there. “Oh my! I didn't notice you there.” Her smile was getting thin.

“Did you find a hat?” Dorian asked, searching the edges of the stall. They were all dreadful. So many feathers. “Please tell me no.”

Cole pointed at a small display of ribbon spools, their ends fluttering in the light breeze. “How do I buy one of those?”

Dorian looked at the boy, then at the ribbons, and smiled. “Which one?”

The saleswoman tried to show off her finer, more pricier wares, but Cole already had what he wanted.

The ribbon was a rich azure blue satin with tiny yellow seams. It fell through Cole's fingers like water, rippling in the sunlight. It looked like a more beautiful version of the ratty, faded one on his wrist – the one he kept checking to make sure it was there.

The saleswoman tried to wrap the ribbon in nice paper packaging, but once she had cut a length of it, Cole wouldn't let it go.

“It's fine. We don't need any wrapping.” Dorian waved her off, putting his hand on Cole's back to steer him back to Cassandra.

He wouldn't stop running the ribbon between his hands.

 

\---

 

Amy crept into Dorian's room and stood before the full-length mirror he had propped in one corner. She stared at her chest, rising and falling beneath the brown linen jumper dress and soft, pale long-sleeve shirt, all homemade by the sisters at the chantry. Her boots – too large, never quite fit – poked out beneath the hem.

Eyes wide, staring, she thought of Cole.

His tenderness in everything he did, his unique blend of awkwardness and grace, the sound of his voice, the feel of his smile against her hands, how he sat beside her every night as she drifted to sleep, how the night before he left she felt him lightly run one fingertip over her palm before pulling it back like a skittish fox in the snow. The cadence of his thoughts and the drifting lilt of his questions. The shape of his walk and how one day he let her wear his hat and it sunk down to her nose and he laughed so honest and open and loud. When he thinks of her, his hands drift to the ribbon in his hair almost every time. Though her hair, her eyes, her clothes are brown, to him she is the color blue.

But Amy sees no light in her chest. She feels warmer, feels lighter, keeps smiling without trying to, but there is no light in her chest, or fire, or flower, or anything she's seen in anyone else's heart.

Sudden cold snakes into her belly at the thought. _What if I don't have affection in me at all? What if I can't love? What if I'm empty?_

Amy presses her hand to the mirror and it's cold under her fingers.

“Maybe I just can't see it,” she whispers to her own reflection.

She's not convinced.

 

\---

 

That night in the room they had rented to give them some relief from tents, Cole's whisper at Dorian's ear woke him with a start.

“What is it, Cole?”

“You said I could ask you questions.”

Dorian groaned. “Ask.”

“How do you give someone a gift?”

“You just... hand it to them. Sometimes you explain why you're giving it to them. Now go to sleep. Or at least shut up so I can.”

As Dorian drifted back into the fade, Cole sat on the floor, back to the bed, watching the flutter of the ribbon in his hands.

_Explain why you're giving it to them._

Gifts, it turned out, were hard.


	11. Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: sexual abuse/rape is vaguely hinted at in this chapter. It's not graphic, but it's mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh this fic could be subtitled "the one in which J rambles about Cole's hair for literally _thousands_ of words." I have no idea why it's turning out this way, lol. Maybe it's all the fan art on tumblr of him wearing flowers in his hair and having it braided and all fluffy and pretty. 
> 
> (also raised the rating to Teen because we _are_ talking about sex and nakedness and stuff)

“Strip.” Dorian prodded the boy’s shoulder, then turned back around. “Go on.”

Cole started unfastening the buckles on his armor, hearing the splash as Dorian entered the stream.

“How do you take it off so quickly?”

“Practice.” Dorian chuckled.

Cole made a face, tugging at his straps. Soon they were off, and he was down to his soft undershirt and patched pants.

“Strip.” A pop on the final p as Dorian rubbed the soap bar over himself. “I’ll not have you clinging to me on that horse the entire way back smelling like you do. You’re taking a bath.”

Cole did as he was told. He had a moment of indecision over what to do with Amy’s ribbons – hers and the gift – eventually settling for tucking them under his hat so they wouldn’t blow away. Completely devoid of clothing now, he came to stand in the water beside Dorian, who handed him the soap.

“Scrub.”

Cole imitated what he’d seen the other man do earlier, rubbing the soap bar on his skin.

Dorian made a disgusted noise worthy of Cassandra. “You were so filthy it’s leaving streaks!” He pointed. “When was the last time you had a bath.”

He tried to think, soap going still. Dorian grabbed his elbow and forced him to keep washing.

“I don’t know.”

“That is disgusting. I’m going to have to talk to Varric.”

“Why Varric?”

The mage shrugged dismissively. “He’s unofficially responsible for you, I thought. Or maybe he’s passed that responsibility to Amy.”

Cole stopped washing. _Amy_. He felt cold water splash over his head, and he jumped.

“You have to wash your hair, too.”

Cole looked at the damp strands and tried to rub at them with the soap bar.

“Oh, for the love of-“ Dorian snatched the soap from the boy’s hand and pushed down on his shoulders. “Sit.”

He sat, the water coming up to his neck. Dorian cupped his hands and poured cool stream water over Cole’s head, rubbing the soap on his hands and then kneading them through Cole’s hair. It felt nice, and Cole closed his eyes, humming softly. It was nothing like having his hair braided. Too wet, and Dorian’s hands didn’t touch him like he was soft, like he was special. He thought of Amy’s gentleness, her hands and the way they always paused when she decided to try and sneak her fingers somewhere new. It always gave her away, the moment she decided, even though she tried to hide her thoughts from him. He couldn’t help smiling.

“You know,” Dorian smirked. “You’ll look much nicer with clean hair.”

“Looking doesn’t matter,” Cole repeated his words from earlier.

“Of course it matters.” He thumped the blonde head in front of him with a knuckle. “Especially to pretty girls.” When Cole didn’t react to his teasing, Dorian sighed dramatically. “Pretty girls _named Amy_.”

That got a reaction. The boy gasped, then tilted his face up to look at Dorian. “Amy doesn’t notice how I look.”

“Of course not. But she might be persuaded to pay attention if you took a bath every once in a while.” The mage tilted Cole’s head back down and lifted water from the steam with a flick of his hand, the magic singing against Cole’s face as the water splashed on him.

He knew why Dorian dressed like he did. He needed to be seen. _Look at me. Notice me. See me. Want me. Want until it burns you, until you crave it. Desire. Desirable. Wanted. Worth it. Worthy._

Cole didn’t need to be seen. But Amy did.

“Why doesn’t Amy wear clothes like yours?”

Dorian paused before dumping another magic twist of water on Cole’s head. “Where did that come from?”

“You both need people to notice you. But you look like that and Amy doesn’t.”

Dorian sighed. “Honestly, Amy doesn’t have the money to be a flashy dresser. Or the interest. If she dressed like I do, it might attract a different kind of attention – a kind she wouldn’t want.”

Cole had felt the fear on Cullen, on Josephine, as they looked at Amy. They worried what the men could do to a spirit in the body of a young girl _–_ words like _innocent, naïve, open and honest and attracted to people who could offer her love, **dangerous**_ echoing in their minds. They were grateful to their Maker that Cole had been in the body of a male. He knew they were concerned, knew why, but still didn’t entirely understand.

“But you want that attention,” said Cole. “Why wouldn’t Amy?”

Dorian suddenly splashed Cole with a large wave of water, much more than was necessary to rinse the last of the soap from his head. “I really don’t want to have this conversation with you. Especially not while we’re both _naked_ , if you don’t mind.”

The spirit swiped the soapy water from his eyes and squinted at his friend. “Why not?”

“ _Please_ , Cole.” Dorian summoned a small mote of fire to spin around his head, drying his hair faster than the sun would have. “You’re clean. Let’s go before the ladies get bored and leave us out here.”

Dorian tossed him a towel from stack of things, then summoned a second mote to follow Cole, swirling around his limbs, making him warm.

 

\---

 

Dorian refused to let Cole wear his hat – “It hits me in the back of the head during the ride. Plus your hair will dry funny if you have it on” – which was how they learned that when Cole’s hair is actually clean and allowed to dry in the sun, it curls.

Lavellan had looked over her shoulder to make a comment to Dorian when she noticed the sun on Cole’s white-blonde hair, downy soft and twisting around his ears, at the nape of his neck, fluttering in the wind. She gasped. “Cole!”

Cole looked startled. “Yes?”

The Inquisitor shook her head. “Dorian!”

“What?” Dorian reached for his staff. “What is it?”

“Look at Cole!”

“Rather hard to do when he’s behind me.” But Dorian twisted in the saddle, seeing Cole’s confused face beneath the flutter of blonde curls. “Oh my.” Dorian grinned. “Your hair!”

Cole tugged at one of the longer locks of it hanging in his face. “What’s wrong with my hair?”  
Cassandra, sick of being left out, had turned her horse around to face the boys. Even she was startled. “You look… nice, Cole.”

“See what a good bath will do?” Dorian said, gesturing to the other half of their group. “I told you it mattered to pretty girls.”

Cassandra’s pinks turned the slightest shade of pink. “Let’s keep moving.”

Lavellan giggled.

Cole said softly to Dorian’s back, “They like my hair.”

“Yes, they do.”

“They didn’t like it before.”

“That’s because it was _disgusting_ before.”

Cole made a face Dorian couldn’t see. “It’s still the same hair.”

“It’s really, really not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srsly though, the boy needs a bath. and cullen's roof needs to be repaired. and dorian needs a hug. "Why do you write fanfic?" ... "Because no one is taking basic care of these people and so it falls to me to make them clean and warm and safe."


	12. Need

“How much farther?” asked Lavellan. Cassandra was going to answer, but Cole beat her to it.

“I can hear Skyhold singing.” He tilted his head, eyes closed. “Old stones and an older heart, settling in to a new purpose. Sparkling, happy laughter, and the aching in the bones for those that are missing.”

Dorian chuckled. “So, we're close then.”

“Cullen's cold, but won't go inside. _She should arrive today. Sun almost gone. Where is she?_ ”

Lavellan smiled.

“And beside him-” Cole gasped, opening his eyes.

_There is no light inside me, no brightness, no shining. Just me. Plain and small and not enough. I need to do better. Flower-hearted lion, eyes wincing in the wind, and he won't look at me because I'm not a person. I'm like the creatures in his nightmares and all he sees when I speak is their faces, their screams. I shouldn't be here, but the love in him is louder than any other here._

She can feel the cold creeping dark claiming her, wrapping around her ankles. She squeezes her eyes shut, doesn't want to see if her fingertips are losing their solidity.

_I need my star._

_The one with my name._ _**My** _ _name. No one's ever loved me so bright before, loved me bright for_ _**me** _ _, not because I played pretend._

Sinking, dropping like a stone to curl around herself, make herself small. Not a burden. Not in the way. Apologizing for the space she takes, the form she took without permission.

_But everybody needs him. So much hurt, hands pulling at him in every direction. I don't want to be another needing thing for him to save. I want... I want my own brightness, something to put light in his eyes and make him smile, heal_ _**his** _ _hurt for a change, help_ _**him** _ _for once._

_But every heart that has ever grown warm for me has gone cold in the end. I drive them away. I ruin them. All that love and it turns sour, people trying to keep their love alive in the face of how wrong I am. Mother trying to cut me down. Sister Miranda feeling like she'd failed, praying to the Maker to make her stronger, better, more, when she was perfect. I want to give. But all I ever do is take._

Hands shaking, the sucking dark sticking to her skin.

“Cole?” Dorian asked. “What is it?”

“Go faster.” He holds tight to the other man. “We have to go faster. Now.”

Something in the boy's tone makes Dorian respond without hesitation, speeding the horse up the hill.

 

\---

 

Cullen straightens. “I see them!” There is giddy joy in his voice that he quickly covers with a cough as he heads for the stairs.

Hope flickers in Amy's chest and she stands, legs shaking, clinging to the cold stone to hold her up. She stands on her toes to see over the wall and there they are – two horses, four riders, and a hat flapping where it's tied to the horse.

“Cole!” She whispers, fists forming on the stone. She doesn't want to need him this much. “Cole.”

 

\---

 

Cole leaps from the horse before it's stopped moving.

“Cole!” Dorian shouts. “Don't do that!”

But the boy is already running.

 

\---

 

She hears his boots lightly scuffing on the stones, and her name, “Amy,” a whisper, and she turns and he is there, hair shining and soft, eyes wide and blue and on her, expression concerned, a hand reaching out to touch her across the several feet of distance still between them and that _light_ – her light. Her star.

 _He is so beautiful_ , she thinks. Worn leather armor and knives on his back and thin hands reaching for her as he steps closer. _His heart is so beautiful_. She's smiling before she thinks about it, wanting to reach out and touch him, touch his hair – _his hair!_ – wants to press herself against him, wants to hold him close. _Want, want, want._ She holds herself back.

“ _Hollow and alone, the darkness cloying and close, disappearing. Don't want to take. Don't want the weight of me, heavy on him, dragging him down._ ” He stands there, his hand on the wall beside hers, not touching. “Amy.”

“It's okay. I'm better now.”

“I know.” He hooks one pinkie around hers, tilting his head as he looks at their hands. “ _Don't want to need him._ But I _like_ helping.”

She curls three of her fingers around his pinkie. “I don't want to be just another hurt for you to heal.”

Cole frowns, flexing his finger beneath her hand.

“Thank you for coming.” She smiles, ducking her face into his line of sight so he looks at her. “Thank you for helping. But I'm okay.”

 _I don't need you_ , he hears. His frown deepens, hearing a small hurt of his own. “You don't want me to help?”

Amy pulls her hand away, rubbing at her cheeks, pink in the wind. “How was your trip?” _Be someone they like,_ Cole can hear her saying it to herself, over and over. _Make them happy and they'll want you to stay. Smile. Smile. Smile._ “Your hair looks really nice.” _Need them to want me to stay_. _Need him to want me to stay._

“Amy.” He steps closer, takes her hand away from her face because she likes it when he touches her, she likes it when he's close. “You need me next to you, but you don't want it. _Tangled and twisted. The reasons matter._ ” His hand on her wrist. “Why do the reasons matter?”

Amy takes a deep breath through her nose, tries to find the words.

“It hurts you to explain.” He drops his hand. “I'm sorry. I'm making it worse.”

The deep breath comes out in a sigh. “It's alright, Cole.”

“I thought coming would help.”

“It did.”

“I want to help.”

“You _did_.”

He makes a face. “But it still hurts.”

“What I _am_ hurts.” She says it too fast, then bites her lip. “Needing other people is hard.”

He touches her again, feels how the pain eases every time he does, even though reaching out makes him nervous. His hand on her arm, a weight holding her down, keeping the darkness away. “I'm sorry. How can I make it better?”

Amy flinches at his words, and Cole can hear Solas' voice in her head. _Cole is a spirit of compassion. He takes care of others not because he cares about them, but because-_ and Amy finishes. _Because he needs to. He doesn't care. I am a project._

Cole's eyes go wide. “No, wait! That's not-” He sees her shake her head, and her thoughts scramble. He tries to hear them, understand, but they slip away. “It's... gone.”

Amy stares at his chest, brow crinkling, and he catches one last thought too strong to hide. _If that's true, then why is he so bright?_

 _I'm bright?_ Cole is even more confused.

“It's cold,” Amy says, even though he knows she can't feel the cold, just like he can't. “Let's go inside.”

“But-”

“Please?”

“Okay...” He followed after her, his hand reaching out to touch her again, but pulling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me and this chapter had a very aggressive arm-wrestling match that I'm not 100% sure I won lol.


	13. Care

They go through Cullen's office, across the bridge to Solas' rotunda. He's leaning in the doorway, watching Lavellan with her arms around the Commander. _Waiting his turn._ Amy grins at the reunited lovers, at the second reunion about to happen, and she drifts into the Main Hall, letting the bright flower in Cullen's heart and the roaring fire in Lavellan's fill her up, wash away the confusion of the battlements with Cole.

Cole, who is no longer beside her.

 

\---

 

“Solas.” Cole bunched his hands in fists. “Why did you tell Amy I don't care about her?”

The elf raised his eyebrows, turning away from the sight of the Inquisitor. “Hmm?”

“You told Amy I didn't care about her.”

“Ah. I merely warned her against misinterpreting your attentions.”

Cole shook his head. “Amy is my friend. I _care_ about her.”

“Yes, but not in the way I thought she might care for you.”

He shook his head harder. “I don't understand.”

Solas held out a hand to where the Inquisitor and the Commander were embracing. Cullen tilted her face up into his, putting his hand on her chin, and she stood on her toes to reach him. They had been kissing passionately at first, and now it was slow, sweet, soft.

“Some at Skyhold believed Amy cares for you in that way.”

Cole watched their faces, the flushed cheeks, the shining eyes, the easing of Cullen's features and the joy in Lavellan's. There had been pain in both of them – _worry, longing, missing the other_ – that was melting away, becoming tender and soft. There were people all around them, but they cared for none of them. “Special,” Cole said. “They are special to each other.”

“Yes, Cole.”

He turned to Solas again. “Amy _is_ special to me.”

Solas shook his head. “I'm not sure you understand-”

“I _do_ understand.” The tiny jump inside of him when he dared to touch her. The way she made him feel _right_ , like he belonged. How she always found an answer he hadn't seen, a way to help that lasted longer than his own idea would have. How her lips curled up in a grin when she said his name. “And you told her she didn't matter!”

Solas' eyebrows raised slightly, his mouth parting. “That was not my intention. If I misunderstood-”

But Cole had turned on his heel, marching with purpose through the Hall.

And Amy wasn't there.

 

\---

 

He had been walking with her just a second ago, and now he was gone. Worry teased at her insides, all those fears rushing back, but Amy found him, looking angry, talking to Solas. She waited, shifting from foot to foot, but he didn't follow.

Varric turned away from Dorian and Cassandra, and smiled at her. “You look a little lost.”

“I... Cole and I were going to the tavern, but he's... busy.”

The dwarf turned to see the two talking. “I was thinking of going over there myself. Care for some company?”

She was disappointed, but the warmth in Varric's chest – a link in a chain, a supporting beam in a house he builds for himself – eased the tension roiling inside her and made her smile. “Yes, please.”

He gallantly bowed, holding out his hand. “After you, my lady.”

She had to laugh at that, but still spared a glance for Cole. _Why didn't he follow?_

The two crossed Skyhold together, Varric making jokes and she feeling him care for her, felt him wanting her to smile – not for him, but for her – and it made it easier. _I don't need Cole_ , she thought to herself as Varric held open the tavern door for her. _There is so much love here for me._

“Thank you, Varric,” she said, stooping slightly to give him an impulsive hug.

He chuckled. “What was that for?”

She saw that house in his heart, each brick and beam a person, holding himself up with the affection of friends, keeping himself safe with his love for each of them. _For making me part of your home_ , she thought. “For walking me here,” she said.

He laughed again. “I should walk you places more often. I could do with more hugs.”

And for that, she hugged him again.


	14. Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. YOU GUYS. Look at [this amazing art Hiko did of this chapter](http://hikoosaki.tumblr.com/post/114981262143/they-lay-there-still-and-quiet-whispering-each)!!! It's gorgeous!!
> 
> just an FYI.... Cole and Amy are both asexual. Romantic yes, sensual yes, but sexual no. They _could_ have sex, but they don't experience sexual attraction, so probably wouldn't really think to have sex with each other unless someone else told them they should. Just. So you know. :P

Dorian had explained where she went, and Cole had followed, fast. She was still hurting, but more than that, Cole was hurting. It was strange to hurt for someone else, to feel pain because of someone else. He had seen it often in others, but it felt different when it was your own.

The tavern was busy, noisy, crowded. Cole shrunk away, stepping around the edges of the crowd like a stone skipping on a pond. Then up the stairs, up more stairs, until finally he saw her, curled into herself, her blanket barely covering her.

He stepped quietly, emotion slipping up his throat. Her pain was less, now. Varric had helped, and she was much farther from the dark edge than she had been when he arrived, but she was still sad – an old sadness, comfortable and familiar.

 _What I am hurts_ , she had said.

 _But I like what you are,_ he should have said – would have said if he could make her forget and start over. But she had asked him not to. _How can I fix it so you can be what you are without it hurting? What you are is good. Wonderful. It shouldn't hurt. I want to help._

_Wanting to help doesn't mean you don't matter._

“Cole?” She asked without lifting your head.

“Yes?” He knelt by her makeshift bed, worrying at his sleeves. _You didn't want me next to you before._

“You're very loud.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She looked up then, smiling a little before it faded. “I liked hearing it.”

“You matter.”

The smile came back. “I heard.”

Cole scooted closer, picked at a thread at the corner of the blanket by her hand. “Solas was wrong. He shouldn't have said what he did.”

“I understand people's feelings for each other. They make sense. But I'm not sure... I don't know what your feelings mean.” Amy took a breath, slipping both her hands close to his, not touching. “Do you care about people – specific people – or do you just... care about everyone?” She frowned. “Are people special to you?”

_Saying it is hard. People who matter can be taken away, can look at you with fear and disappointment in the dark, can die, can forget._

Her hands, warm and soft, curled around his. “I won't forget.” 

Cole smiled, laughed. “No. You never do. Not once. Not ever.”

She smiled back.

He tugged his hand away quickly and she shrank into herself a little. “Wait.” He reached into a pocket and made a fist around her gift, hiding it from her as he drew his hand out.

“What's that?” She asked as he curled beside her.

He wanted suddenly to be close to her, to touch her, but he wasn't sure how. So he lay close to her, as close as he dared, and waited for her to settle into him. Amy was in such a tight ball, like she often was. Her feet came to rest against the tops of his thighs, her knees at his stomach. With his free hand, he drew hers closer to him, and she breathed softly, eyes wide as he pressed her hands to his chest. 

“I have a gift!” He opened his other hand between them, letting the two blue ribbons unfold in the space between them. They were tangled together in a knot, blue on brighter blue.

“You got me a ribbon.” Her lips were parted and her astonishment was so strong he could hear it ringing. 

“Yes.” Cole remembered what Dorian had said. _Explain why you're giving it to them._ “I got you a gift,” he began. “Because I missed you. I thought about you. A lot. All the time, except when we were busy. But then I saw the ribbons and my thoughts snagged, caught on you again, and I wanted.” He frowned. “Wanting hurts a little. I wanted to see you happy, but I couldn't because you were here.” His words trailed away and his face crinkled in concentration. “Gifts are hard.”

Amy laughed and he looked at her, seeing her smile wide. “You got me a ribbon.” 

“Yes.”

“For me.”

She was trying to hide her thoughts, but he caught glimpses, all of them so happy. He pressed her hands harder against his chest. “For you.”

“Can you see it?” She whispered. “Is there a star inside of me?”

“No.”

 _The answer made her sad._ To make her happy, he drew the backs of his knuckles down her face. She smiled. _Better_.

“What _can_ you see in me?”

Cole always heard her – her thoughts, her heart, her spirit – it all sang a song to him, like everything did, but this tune was uniquely hers. “I don't see, I hear.”

“What do you hear in me, then?”

He closed his eyes. “Happy. So happy. Special. _This is what special feels like._ But scared, too, afraid it will go away. Wanting hurts, and you've never gotten what you wanted, but you have it now and that's new. And good in a way that nothing has been good before.”

“Yes.”

“But you still want. Not just a light with your name but one that is yours, a light you can hold for someone else. And you want-” His voice abruptly stopped and he opened his eyes. “You want to touch me.”

Amy giggled. “Yes.”

Cole felt warm spread from his stomach to his lungs to his fingers and toes. “Touching me makes you happy.”

“Does it make _you_ happy?”

A whisper. “Yes.”

She tapped her fingers on his chest. “I think you're afraid of wanting, too.”

For some reason, it was hard to look at her face when she said that.

“Cole.” She uncurled, feet sliding down his legs, knees moving away from his stomach. “I won't ever forget. I won't ever be afraid.” He heard the rest she wasn't saying. It was loud, and she didn't try to hide it from him. _I won't go away like Rhys, like Evangeline._

“How do you know?”

“Because I choose not to.” She moved close to him and he gave a shuddering gasp as she pressed herself against him, her body feeling soft against his, her hands still pressed to his chest. The ribbons rolled neatly down the sacks they lay on, coming to rest in the crook of her elbow.

Contentment – peace and joy and belonging wrapped together – sang in her, and something answered in Cole, something that liked knowing he was the reason for it, that he created a happiness in her that went beyond relieving pain, transcended into something bigger, brighter, _more_. He placed his other hand on top of hers, both now resting on her hands resting on his chest. They were so warm there, and small in his larger ones. He liked every single thing about this moment.

 _Amy_. He tipped his head forward so his forehead rested against hers.

 _Cole_. He heard his name in her, repeated over and over, a golden note in the song playing throughout her body. _Cole_.

“Amy?” he said after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

He whispered, “It's okay to need me.”

Her breath hitched. “I don't want to be another hurt you have to heal.”

Cole lifted his hand from hers and traced her chin with his fingertip. “It's not the same. People need me to heal specific hurts, to do something. You just need me. Just... me.” His voice got low, soft. “I like the way you need me. Don't stop.”

She smiled again. “Cole.”

“Amy.”

“Cole.”

He placed his hand back on top of hers.

“Amy.”

They lay there, still and quiet, whispering each others' names until Amy fell asleep.

And Cole kept whispering her name long after that.  
  


\---

 

Amy couldn't see it. Cole couldn't either.

But the light in Amy's chest wasn't a star.

It was the sun.

Warm and golden and round, filling her up like a sunrise, hazy sunbeams peaking through clouds of every shade. Vibrant and stunning and warming everything it touched, making the world glow.

Making Cole's world glow brightest of all, illuminating every dark, terrified shadow he had ever hidden in.


	15. Worry

Two weeks ago, when Cole had left for Adamant with the others, Amy had been worried. She worried every time he left, but this mission seemed _more_. More dangerous, more important. She’d done his hair tight against his head for the longer journey, and double-knotted the ribbon, glad to have a way to care for him, something she could do to make a difference.

His hands covered hers as they tore off and retied her ribbon in his hair. He never knew what to do with worry. It wasn’t a hurt he could help, not without making them forget the thing they were worried for, and they never wanted that.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to his hands. “I know it hurts you when I worry.”

“Can’t you just… stop worrying?”

Amy couldn’t help but smile. “No.”

Cole thought of Sera and the serving girl – Tabitha – and how when Tabitha was worried, Sera kissed her. Every time she left, Tabitha clung to the door post and watched her leave the tavern, and Sera always skipped back to kiss her one more time before darting away.

Amy wasn’t paying attention, distracted by the aching _what if_ as she tightened the straps on his gear, checking to make sure every piece was there, even though she had already done it, more than once. She hesitated a moment, then opened the pack again, whispering the contents as she counted them.

Cole angled himself beside the bag, trying to put his face in front of hers, but she ducked down to check the potions and poultices nestled in the pockets.

“Amy…” He leaned on the bag, blocking her from fussing and making her see him. “Amy.”

“Yes?” She stopped.

He stood, balance off as his feet went around the bag. He put his arms around her arms, hands flat against her back. She was a lot smaller than Tabitha, and Cole was much taller than Sera. He staggered, trying to bend, trying to make himself smaller to reach her, but-

Amy gave a little cry and flung herself at him, burying her face in his chest.

Cole felt her worry fade, grow less sharp as she bunched her hands into fists in the shirt at his back and press her cheek over his heart. Her arms wrapping around his body made him happy, light. He started laughing.

Amy felt that star in him press close to her as she hugged him, how it glittered with his laughter and grew steadily warmer as he bent his lanky form around her, wrapping her up in him.

“You have to come back,” she whispered. “Be safe and _come back_.”

When Josephine had said that to Blackwall – _both keeping their eyes on the mountains, standing a solid eight feet apart, wanting but not taking_ – he had promised he would, even though he didn’t _know_ if he would. It didn’t make sense, but Josephine had smiled anyway.

“I will come back,” said Cole, moving his hand up from her back to touch the blue silk in her hair – _the prettier thing that meant she mattered, that made her song grow high and sweet every morning when she tied her hair._ “You don’t need to worry.”

Amy chuckled and Cole felt it in his ribs. “You’ve figured out how to lie.”

He frowned. “Yes.”

“It’s okay, Cole. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Amy closed her eyes and kissed his chest, right over the bright center of his love for her, and he gasped, feeling it everywhere.

If she had known what awaited him at Adamant, if she had known how close she came to losing him, or that he would come back broken, she would _never_ have let him go.


	16. Adamant

Cole had been to Adamant before. It was full of corpses then.

It was full of different corpses now.

As they approached the building and the small army gathered around it, Cole made a face.

Varric smirked. “I don’t want to do this either, Kid.”

“I hate it here.”

“It’s a desert. Everyone hates it here.”

“The desert is fine. Warm and soft. That,” he pointed at Adamant. “Is what’s wrong.”

They could hear the fighting from where they stood.

“Yeah.” Varric pulled Bianca forward, double-checking the mechanisms. “You’re right about that.”

 

\---

 

There were demons, bound and chained and forced to kill. Bodies and blood and screaming. Cole could hear the spirits inside the monsters _screaming_. Memories and emotion contorted into screaming rage and swiping talons.

He stared with wide eyes.

“How you doin’, Kid?”

_Caring for me helps you not be afraid._

“We have to help them,” Cole answered.

“That’s the plan.” Varric reached up, slapping him on the back. “Stop the Wardens before they kill any more.”

The pride demon, enormous and laughing, showing off its strength.

“We have to help _them_.” Cole could hear the demon crying, the pain so loud. _It thought this world was beautiful. It wanted to see. Not destroy._

No one heard him over the sound of steel and fire and screaming.

_So much screaming._

 

\---

 

Alistair knocked a monster aside with his shield, stunning it, giving Bethany time to cast lightning at the beast.

“I’ve got this, Beth,” said Alistair, wiping grime from his face. “You can go to your sister.”

“She’s got her boys with her,” the girl laughed in her blue and silver armor, pounding her staff on the ground and bursting one of the demons into flame. “Trust me, she’s fine.”

Varric grinned as their two groups met. “Good work, Sunshine. Should’ve known you wouldn’t even need us.”

The mage threw her arms around the dwarf, kissing the top of his head before stepping back, lifting her staff and grinning. “Onward, then!”

 

\---

 

“ _Cassandra,” Cole said, fidgeting. She was glaring at maps of the area they had spread out over a makeshift table within sight of the fort, readying her next argument for Alistair and Cullen._

“ _Yes? What is it, Cole?”_

“ _I know you’re busy…”_

_The Seeker lifted her head, startled by how nervous the boy seemed. “Did you need something?”_

“ _Could you… fix my ribbon? It’s not as tight as it was. I don’t want it to get lost.”_

_Cassandra’s face softened and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “I’m very busy, Cole, come over here quickly.”_

_He did, and she undid the knots easily. He was right, it had been loose, and might have easily slipped off._

“ _Do you want me to fix the braid, too?”_

“ _No.” He poured so much emotion into that one word. “Just tie the knots so it won’t get lost.”_

“ _Let me know if I hurt you.” She yanked hard on the ribbon, tying it as tightly as she could._

_Cole smiled. “Thank you.”_

 

\---

 

The knots held fast but the bow was gone, loose ribbons trailing behind him as he lept and ducked and whirled in a fury of blades. Always that streamer of blue linen streaking behind him.

 

\---

 

They found Hawke dancing her daggers across her enemies, needing absolutely no help from them, especially not with the silver-haired elf at her back, slamming his giant sword against anyone who came near her.

And to the side, unnoticed by most of those they fought, was the skinny blonde mage – the one whose pain was so loud, Cole could barely handle being near him in Skyhold, let alone here, with the song crashing hard in Anders' mind and Justice seething at every death.

“Why did you bring him here?” Varric snarled, angry. _Can't you see how unhinged he is?_ Varric's thoughts are loud. _How the Wardens make him worse? What if the Calling gets to him?_

Hawke's eyes narrowed, ready to argue, ready to take the head off anyone who tries to hurt her friends, even if they're other friends. “He wanted to help!” _Let him help, Varric._ Her thoughts were louder. _He needs to do good. It makes him better._

Cole frowned. “You're fighting for the same thing.”

“And we don't have time for it,” shouted Lavellan over both of them. “We need to move. You can snap at each other when we get home.”

“Agreed,” said the elf, crossing his arms, standing between Hawke and Anders. _Where he always stands._

“So let's go, then.” Alistair says, leading the way.

Hawke waits, taking up the rear.

Cole can hear the sisters' quiet voices behind him.

“Really, Marian. The two of them. Again.”

“It's not like that anymore.”

Bethany snorted. “Sure it isn't.”

 

\---

 

There was fire. More death.

And a dragon.

_Tackling Rhys to keep from being crushed, hearing Evangeline calling him as he ran. Not here. Not here. Wrong. How can I be there? How can the dragon be here? How can this be happening again, but-_

A blast of fire, so hot even through the barrier, pushing him back against the wall.

“Cole!” Solas’ voice, then ice like the air at Skyhold, putting out the flames.

 

\---

 

He fell, once. Teeth on his shoulder, claws in his chest. Head hitting the stone.

“Help Cole!” Lavellan had shouted, and Cole had wondered why it hurt so bad.

If he wasn’t a person, why did it hurt so much?

Solas stood over him, feet on either side of his head, staff spinning in the air.

Walls of ice doming around them and the elf knelt, pouring a potion down his throat, casting magic over him.

Cole could hear Varric shouting.

“Help _them_ ,” he said as his body knit back together.

“Wait a moment and you can help them yourself.”

Cole breathed, pain easing.

“Lahria tells me you have a promise to keep, to come back safe.”

 _Amy_. “Yes.”

“And you have a promise to me as well, not to die.”

Cole blinked, remembering.

“Get up, and stay close to the others so my barriers can reach you.”

The ice faded, the noise rushing back.

“Promise, Cole.”

Cole staggered to his feet. “I promise.”

 

\---

 

Then they all were falling, all screaming, all dropping through the air.

Amy’s ribbon fluttered above him like a comet’s tail and he reached for it, not sure what he felt or thought but-

The world broke open, green and shining, and swallowed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy Asunder references for you nerds out there!  
> Also........ the Bethany Anders Fenris bits.... I'm working on a fic where they all come to Skyhold and all of these are supposed to be in the same canon world together so I thought I'd throw it in there.


	17. Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! I know it's been a while. u_u;; The literary magazine that I run ([shameless plug](http://www.readvitality.com)) just released its first issue so I have been SCRAMBLING haha. 
> 
> Also I really REALLY hate hurting Cole :c So this chapter was hard.

They land hard. Cole opens his eyes, feels the wet grit under his hands and sees green. Green everywhere. Magic ringing on him, over him, in him.

“No,” he whispers, horror dawning. “Not here. Not like this.”

The others formulate a plan but he can't focus. He's being ripped in two, head splitting down the middle, both entirely _him_ and _not himself_ at the same time.

“I can’t be here,” Cole said, hands shaking, his voice a breaking whine.

“None of us should be here.” Lavellan's kindness felt like a soothing, healing balm, but it wasn't enough. “We’ll get you out soon.”

“I made myself forget when I made myself real,” he said, eyes darting around the green-tinted bog. “I didn't want this. I don't want to be what this place needs me to be. I want to be _me_.” He started a long, low string of words that no one else could follow. “Specific, named, a person not an idea. Me. Cole. Real. Not a dream. Weigh me down, make me solid.” He felt his arm jerk in an instinctual need to lash out, to create pain to call to him, to hold him down. “Can't relax, can't release. Can't be a thing again, an _it_ not a _him_. Need to _be_.”

“Hey.” Varric's hand, warm and large on the small of his back. “It's gonna be alright.”

_How do you know?_ But Varric was concerned – _my hurt is hurting him_ – it worked like ice water splashed in his face and brought him back to himself. To Cole. The real Cole, the one who never wanted to hurt Varric, never hurt anyone. So he kept his mouth shut, leaning into Varric's touch and wishing Amy were here.

_No_. He wanted Amy far, far away from here. _Never here. Not like this._ But things would be easier to bear if he could hear the sound of her, the sweet rightness of it. He had a memory of it and he drew it near to him, kept his feet moving and his eyes open, let himself be led by Varric's arm.

He could sense the other spirits in the area – all angry, all too loud and too wrong.

“Demons,” he said quietly just before they saw the first group of them.

 

\---

 

It felt good to act, to sink blades into that wrong flesh, into the twisted shapes of the demons.

“Spiders,” shivered Lavellan.

“That's not what I saw,” answered Varric.

Cole just saw what they were – demons. Little ones. Wisps that might have been playful and curious in another part of the fade but were being twisted into something monstrous here. The kind of slips of spirits that Dorian drew on to do his magic, only these were nothing Dorian would ever conjure.

 

\---

 

The Nightmare laughed like distant thunder, saw into Cole and spat his hurt back at him, like it did to everyone else. Somehow that was comforting. _It sees me as one of them._ The idea was enough to make the muscles in his shoulders relax.

But then they saw the tombstones, and the ache in everyone's heart was _so loud_. The things they kept locked deep inside themselves bursting open, spilling over.

He tried to help, to make it stop. “You know she's going to fix it, Alistair.”

“Yeah, okay. You need to not do that.” _Dying second_ , it had said. Seeing her fall, seeing her body red and her eyes black and her skin grey.

“But she-”

“Cole.” Varric had nudged him hard enough to make him topple slightly. “Back off.”

Cole closed his mouth but his eyes were wide on his friend.

“Let's go,” said Varric, yanking on Hawke's arm. “Everyone stop looking. This isn't helping anything.”

The group walked on, and Varric hung behind, as he had the whole way, keeping to Cole's side, the two of them following behind Fenris, who hadn't put his blade away since they entered the Fade.

Varric's eyes were down, face stormy. Cole could hear him repeating his own tombstone in his mind.

_Became his parents._

“You aren't them,” Cole said anyway, and Varric sighed.

“I know, Kid.”

“Amy says you built a house made out of people.”

“Because that's not creepy at all.”

Cole shook his head. “I'm getting it wrong. It's a made out of friends. You built your own family. One that doesn't hurt.” He could see Varric tense at that, and Cole hurried. “Made of brothers and sisters who would never leave you trapped, trying, trouble, always too much trouble, never getting it right. Your new family isn't like that. Amy is happiest around you because of how you love and how others love you. _They_ weren't like that. _They_ weren't you. _You aren't them_.”

Varric tried to smile, then scratched at his ponytail. “You're sweet, Kid. Thank you.”

_But it didn't work._ Cole fidgeted with his hand wraps, wanting to start over.

“It's alright. Don't worry about me.”

“ _Broken things can be used to create something new, something beautiful_ ,” he pulled the line from Fenris' mind and the elf spun around, cheeks red, eyes angry. “She said that to you once.” Cole turned to Varric. “Did it help? He thought it would help.”

Fenris turned away, muttered in Tevene, walked faster.

Varric finally smiled. “Yeah, Kid. It does.”

 

\---

 

The closer they got to the Nightmare, the louder and angrier the noise was in Cole's head. It wrapped like chains around him, pulling.

Better it pulling him down, compressing him, than his old self flying free.

But then it was over. It was dead – _knives spinning, black ichor hissing on Cole's clothes, “You can't hurt me!”_ – and they were back in the real world.

There were so many questions, so much shouting, no one noticed or minded when Cole fell to his knees, pressed his head to the cold stones of Adamant fortress and cried.

No more fade. No more magic in the air. No more stretching, twisting, pulling.

Just the weight of reality settling him, gravity holding his boots, and the solid, solid world refusing to bow to anyone's will.

“I am me,” he whispered to the stones, curling in a ball as tight as any he'd seen Amy in. “I am me. I am Cole. I am me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been some concern over who I sacrificed... I didn't. They all made it out alive. _How_ is a question to be answered in the fic I'm writing for the Dragon Age Big Bang. ;) I just want all of these to line up in the same universe so. Sorry that part got a little bit glossed over!! Just know that Hawke and her boys AND Alistair – all made it out fine. 
> 
> Speaking of the same universe, if you want to see more of Cole and Varric in the Fade, you can read the [Abyss chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2905226/chapters/6667127) in my other fic [Pride and Honor](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2905226/chapters/6473939).


	18. Night

The camp was chaos.

So many wounded, so much confusion. What to do with the wardens? Arguments ringing from tent to tent. People clinging to friends and lovers, grateful to have them back alive. Varric hovering over Hawke hovering over Anders. Dorian and Solas hovered, too, magic flashing, casting each other concerned looks and sharing theories about the fade's effect on those who had made it through.

Fenris sitting to the side with Bethany, cleaning his blade, keeping quiet but close. Bethany fidgeting, biting her lip, her eyes following her sister as she paced. _It could have been you._

It was what everyone was thinking, worrying for their own loved ones as they saw the broken bodies of the soldiers. _It could have been her. It could have been him. That goodbye could have been our last._

The emotion and pain in the camp was overwhelming.

Cole felt parsed together, worn thin, tired in a way he never felt before, but if he held still he remembered the Fade and the demons and the blood pooling beneath the Warden’s sacrifices, so he kept moving, helping any way he could. Bandages and salves to fetch, wounds to wash, water cupped to the lips of the injured. The pain of the Wardens – and that foul, grating song – was a constant pressure at his back, but his fury at what they had done was stronger, so he avoided them all.

All but Alistair, who seemed just as eager to keep busy and just as eager to avoid the Wardens.

The two of them acted in tandem as unofficial nursemaids to the wounded, two extra sets of hands for the healers, until finally Alistair’s yawns and bleary eyes drove Cole to force him to bed just like one of his other patients.

Eventually he ran out of people to help. The camp drifted to sleep, the wounded resting, and Cole was alone with his thoughts – something he absolutely did not want.

The night was quiet, the smell of fire and smoke and blood clinging close. Cole fidgeted, restless, wandering outside and wishing he could sleep, wishing Amy had taught him how she did it.

_Screaming spirits lashed to a will that wasn't their own, forced into twisted shapes, all their thoughts fracturing into violence, into anger. Confused and destroying, ripping out the throats of the people they had often watched in dreams, of the souls who had taught them to be Hope, to be Faith, to be Compassion._

“No,” he whispered. “I am not a demon. Solas said. I'm a spirit. I am me. I am Cole.”

But those demons had been spirits once, too.

 _Despair_.

Cole swallowed, scrambling back, toppling into the dirt as if he was escaping a physical threat. He could imagine it, the cold wrapping around him, becoming him. What would he do to people then?

What could someone make him do?

\---

 

Amy lay awake in the too-empty attic of the tavern, running her fingers over the blue silk ribbon Cole had given her, wondering where he was at that moment. _Was Varric watching out for him? Was Dorian keeping him safe? Was Solas explaining things to him?_

She sighed and heaved onto her other side, wrapping the ribbon around her hand like Cole's handwraps, then letting it unravel down her arm.

One evening a week ago, Cole had wandered off through Skyhold without her. This happened, and he always came back. But this time, he had gone while she was sleeping, and it was so soon after he had returned with his gift... she was still fragile, and she felt his absence like something being ripped from her.

She'd woken up, cold and alone in the dark. It was late enough that the tavern was empty but the sun wasn't up yet. Normally, as long as she was in the tavern, surrounded by the people with their kaleidoscope of affections, she was fine. But there was no one here now.

“Cole?” She'd whispered, remembering his quiet voice – _It's okay to need me. I like the way you need me. Don't stop._

She didn't hesitate, then, creeping on swift tip-toes through the tavern, shouting his name in her head. _Cole. Cole where are you?_

Amy had gone outside. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and she was barefoot. It was cold enough to hurt, little needles through the soles of her feet.

“Cole?” Her voice was quavering. “Anyone?”

_Everyone must be sleeping._

Somewhere a dog started barking and she jumped.

Irrational thoughts slipped through her. _What if they're all gone? What if I'm the only person left? What if every single person in Skyhold just left and no one remembered where I was and now-_  
Arms around her shoulders, a cheek pressed to the back of her head.

“I'm sorry. I didn't think you would wake up.”

She buckled in Cole's embrace, curling and letting him be a larger curve around her, over her, holding her up and pressing her together.

“I'm so sorry, Amy.”

“It's alright now.”

Her hands slipped up around his forearms and she pressed her face onto his skin, letting his warmth fill her up until she could stand again.

Just before he pulled away, Cole whispered, “Thank you for needing me. For letting me help.”

Amy smiled where he couldn't see.

_Cole._

 

\---

 

It was better this time, the being without him, even though Varric and Solas were both gone as well. Skyhold was quiet with so many having gone to Adamant. The only people left were civilians – chantry sisters, family members, or the wounded.

The air was thick with worry, each person's love for friends, for sweethearts, for brothers and sisters gone to fight, it permeated everything, kept Amy going.

With the place short handed, there was plenty to keep her busy. Babies needed tending. Nurses needed more supplies (each working double-time now with both Cole and Anders gone).

People needed Cole in ways that no one ever needed her, but with so many gone, she felt truly useful for once, like she had a purpose. _Is this how he always feels?_ She wasn't helping the way he helped, but she was working hard, helping in what ways she could. 

It felt good. 

It was only the darkness that bothered her, the coming to her little makeshift bed and knowing she was alone.

“I'm okay,” she whispered like she always did, anticipating that Cole would feel her pain and be upset by it. Only he was too far away to feel it, or to hear her. “I won't break down like last time. I'm okay. I am Amy. I am me.”

It didn't really help.


	19. Snow

They were a day's ride from Skyhold, most tucked into tents or yawning by the fire.

Cole snuck a sheet of paper from Varric's things and scribbled two quick notes, then placed them in his friends' boots.

“I left for Skyhold early. Please don't worry.”

He slunk away from camp, knowing no one would see him, then took off running up the path to Skyhold. To home. To Amy.

 

\---

 

Amy sat in the main room of the Tavern by the fire where it would be warm even if she was alone, staring out the window at the light snow that was coming down. She knocked her boots together.

She couldn't sleep. Couldn't for days. But she wouldn't break down. Head up, tapping on her knees.

“I'm okay. I am Amy. I am me. I'm alright.”

And then, suddenly, she was.

She sat up, feeling truly solid, grounded in a way she hadn't for weeks. Not since-

“They're back!”

She ran, tripping over her untied laces, not bothering to grab a sweater as she ran into the snow. The gates were closed and she threw her weight against them, bracing herself to get them open just enough to slip through.

Amy took off across the bridge, leaving bootprints in the snow, feeling that weight, that completeness grow in her bones. _They must be close,_ she thought. _Cole and Varric and Solas and Cullen and Lahria – they must all be so close._ She wished she could hear them the way Cole did instead of needing to see them. The snow made it hard to see anyone.

And then she saw him.

Or, well, his hat.

“Cole!” She took to running faster, saw his head lift and his voice-

“Amy!” And he was running too.

She laughed and ran until they collided. Amy jumped at the last second and he caught her, pressing her close to him as she clung tight, breathing hard between laughter.

_I missed you_ , she felt him think.

_Oh, Cole. I missed you more than you know._

He was laughing, the star in his chest erupting into his too-loud creaking laughter, his inability to stop himself from expressing every ounce of joy. She slid back to the ground, hands gripping his jacket, never looking away from his face.

“Where are the others?”

He looked down. “I slipped away.”

Before she could open her mouth to reprimand him, she saw in his mind – notes, carefully placed – and she sighed. “They'll worry anyway.”

“But I left notes!”

“It doesn't matter. They will still worry.”

“Oh.”

Amy tugged his hands, refusing to let him focus on the wrong thing. “You're back!”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“How did... everything go?”

That smile dropped from him in an instant and his hands gripped hers tight. She didn't need to hear his thoughts to see the fear on his face, the tight line of his shoulders and the fidgeting.

“Hey, it's alright. You're home. You're safe.” Amy wrapped herself around him, pressing her face into his chest. “Everything's okay now.”

_It's not. It's not okay. Stretching into the wrong shape, becoming darkness, becoming fury. The screams of the demons, the spirits last thoughts. Don't understand. Hands moving, blood on the floor._

“Cole.” Her cold fingers were on his cheeks, making a narrow path to her face with her fingers. Her voice was fierce. “Let's go home.”

 

\---

 

He stayed close, always touching, a pressure and a presence connecting him to her in some way. She listened to his thoughts as he explained what happened. Kept telling him it was over, he was fine.

“But I'm not. It could happen again. _To me_.”

The rest arrived – worried. Of course they were.

Things went back to normal.

Except for Cole.

 

\---

 

Amy held him often, whispering both in his mind and against his skin that he was alright, that nothing would happen, that no one could bind him as a demon because he wasn’t a demon. But he was still hurting.

“You’re you. You’re Cole.” She pressed her nose to the nape of his neck. _You’re mine, Cole. I won’t let anyone hurt you._

_They could bind you, too_. The thought was crashing in his mind, warring with his fear of becoming a demon himself, both so loud.

He huddled up around himself, hugging his chest, and she nestled close behind him, rubbing his arms and holding him tight, trying to take away his fears. _I’m not good at this_ , she thought as she traced patterns over his shoulders. _Please be okay, Cole_.

Cole straightened, then, turning to face her. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re worrying me.”

_I’m scaring you_ , he thought, but she didn’t look at him like he was a monster. She wasn’t scared of him, but _for_ him. It felt different, softer, better, but it still hurt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that chapter was a mess


	20. Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a sort of standalone companion to this, featuring Cole/Amy, called [Forgot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3581382). It's a wee bit angsty. I also posted a super sad AU "what if" bit on my tumblr (called [Forget](http://andrastesass.tumblr.com/post/113826995587/forget). Cause I'm great at names).

Solas wouldn't bind him, but he had a plan. An amulet.

Lahria wasted no time getting it for them, spurred on by her own fears for what Cole could be just as much as that desperation in his voice.

\--- 

Amy was sitting on the floor mending a hole in Cole's hat with a ripped hem of dark red fabric he had taken from the scrap bin. She'd trimmed it into the shape of a bird and lined it with tight, precise stitches.

Cole sat beside her, chin on his arms, watching her work. _Small hands, smaller fingers, thimble overlarge and always slipping off. Sister Miranda’s smile. “You’ve got talent for this,” and a warm hand stroking her hair. “I’ve never seen such even stitches.”_

For the final touch, she tied a small knot for the bird's eye and threaded it into the floppy brim of his hat.

“There,” she said, smiling at him.

“You always make things so much _nicer_. I help, but you help and then more.” His voice was always so expressive, and as he said this, it had notes of joy, surprise, delight and admiration. “Always that small touch no one else would think of.”

Amy blushed, running her fingers over the edges of the bird, feeling Cole's thoughts. _Not just a braid but a ribbon. Not just sticky buns for the boys but a friend. Not just what someone needs, but what they didn't know they wanted._

“It's just a bird,” she said, lighting up inside despite herself.

“I make people forget, make things better. You make people smile.”

“I don't... it's not really... you see into the heart of people and help to fix their deepest hurts. All I do is little things.”

Cole took the hat into his lap, running a fingertip over the nub of the bird’s eye. “You’re wonderful.” Amy shook her head, but he lifted his eyes to hers and smiled. “I think you’re wonderful.”

A drop in her stomach like she was falling and a thought in her head ringing with clarity - _I want to be yours_. That thought was followed by a dozen others, pealing in her chest like bells _. I want to be tied to you, to belong to you in a way I have never belonged to anyone. I gave up that hope a long time ago but every time you say my name I want it to be possible. Just let me stay by your side forever and I’ll be happy. Let me take care of you and hold your hand and oh Cole, please. See a star in me like I see in you._

_Let me be capable of loving you._

Cole’s sweet smile crumpled into concern. “Amy?” _Wanting, wanting, wanting. Reaching. Begging. Please._ And his name, so loud. _Cole_. He tried to filter through her thoughts – _half-hidden, muffled but loud, an ache like an empty hole, an old wound, gaping and cold_. He dug deeper. _Dorian’s room, a mirror, seeing nothing, then seeing him – Cole_. “Bright and brilliant, beautiful. Want to be that, wear his name like he wears mine. Want that light to mean I’m wanted.”

Amy breathed deeply, lifting her head and straightening her spine. “I’m fine, Cole. I’m sorry I worried you.” Her fingers began tapping on her knees.

Thoughts slipping away, water through his fingers. “Wait. Don’t _do_ that.” He listened hard, but everything he heard was muffled, only catching glimpses. “I want to help!”

“You can’t help.” She put away her sewing things to keep her hands from shaking. “Not with this.”

Cole made a frustrated noise. She was the only one who could do this – hide things from him. He could feel the hurt, could hear the reason just out of reach. It made him itch under his skin. “Amy.” He crawled forward, put an arm around her shoulders. _Touching makes her happy._

But this time, the hurt grew – _thick, choking, lungs aching, eyes burning_. Cole flinched away.

He heard a loud sniff.

_Crying. She’s crying._

Cole fluttered his hands, wanting to do something but not know what. He always knew what to do. It was always obvious. He always knew why they were hurting. “Please.” He said, sitting cross-legged beside her. “Why won’t you let me?” He tried to shout his thoughts to her the way she did to him. _I like it when you let me help you. Please._

“Cole?” Someone called from the stairs. Both spirits turned to see Lahria walking towards them. “I’ve brought the amulet we talked about.”

Amy scrubbed at her face quickly. “Good. Now you won’t have to worry.”

Cole frowned, wanting to have both of these conversations equally at the same time.

“Want to try it on?” Lahria held it out to him.

“Not here,” he said, giving up the conversation with Amy – at least for now. “I like it here.” _Warm and safe, Amy always waiting, mornings with her hands in his hair, evenings listening to the sound of her breathing._ “We need someplace that can go away if it becomes sharp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole describes the events of Asunder as like, he was sort of teetering on the edge of becoming a demon, acting out a distorted idea of compassion. I feel like when Amy “goes dark” like that, it looks like this. Cole’s spirit nature means he only really can continue existing if he continues to help people. Amy’s spirit nature requires her to love and be loved. If she believes she can’t love, or if no one loves her, her existence is threatened. Here, also, she’s sort of warping into envy territory – wanting to be loved by Cole (romantically) in a way he’s not ready for yet, and wanting to be able to love him the way he loves her (which she believes is impossible). 
> 
> Amy’s been human-shaped (as Cole explained himself pre-personal quest) for 10 years, and she’s a lot better at acting human (sleeping, eating, keeping her thoughts to herself lol) but she isn’t “more human” the way Cole can be made “more human.” Solas hinted in an earlier chapter that the way for her to become more human is to stop relying on the love of other people and instead, tie HERSELF to the world through her own desire to exist FOR HERSELF, not for someone else (similar to how Cole becomes more human by allowing himself the space to be angry AND compassionate, more complex of a person instead of just compassion).
> 
> IDK. JUST SOME THOUGHTS ON HOW THEIR SPIRIT-NESS WORKS.


	21. Templar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not a fan of basically copy-and-paste-ing game scenes/dialogue. So if you didn't get this scene, or want to know what's going on, just [watch this video of Cole's actual plot quest](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LblkszOa4eM). All I did below was insert Amy into it.

“It’s simple.” Solas explained the process of the amulet, but Cole wasn’t really listening. The amulet was heavy against his chest, cold on the skin of his neck. _It isn’t like binding_ , he told himself. _It’s safe. It will keep everyone safe. It will keep me_ _ **me**_ _._

“What about her?” Cole stared at the amulet, but pointed at Amy. “Is there one for her?”

Solas and the Inquisitor exchanged looks.

A warm hand slipped around his forearm.

“I’m fine, Cole. You need it more.”

“But-”

Lahria said, “You're more at risk being out in the field all the time. Nothing will happen to Amy in Skyhold.”

 _It’ll be alright, Cole,_ thought Amy, loud. _Besides, I want you to have it._

“I need you to step away, Amy,” said Solas.

She reflexively squeezed Cole’s arm, but relented, stepping back.

A wave of magic and Cole cried out, stumbling back.

“Cole!” Amy put herself between him and Solas, her arms around the boy and her eyes glaring daggers at Solas.

“What are you doing to the kid?” Varric stepped into the room, arms crossed while Cole explained.

As the group talked, squabbling over what they were doing, Cole was getting restless again, shaky and scared like he had after Adamant.

“I don't matter! Just lock away the parts of me that someone else could knot together to make me follow!”

Amy's heart clenched tight at that. “Cole...”

They had a plan, and all of them would head out of Skyhold the next day, but Cole was still shaken, still twisting the wraps on his hands and never sitting still.

 

\---

 

Cole had never figured out how to ride a horse. They had just barely gotten the horses used to his presence at all, and adding Amy to their party made it worse, so the two of them hugged the waists of their riders – Amy around Lahria and Cole around Solas – while Varric came up behind them on his own.

“You four are making me sick,” he grumbled.

“Oh?” Solas asked, raising his brows and looking sideways at Lahria.

“There's only so much flirting a man can take. I feel left out.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Why? I thought Bianca was more than enough for you?”

He chuckled. “You got me there. She's not much for flirting, though.”

Neither were Cole or Amy. They spent most of their time communicating in their minds.

 _We're getting closer_ , thought Cole.

_Yes. Lahria said it would only take a few days._

_Stay with me._

_I'm not going anywhere._

 

\---

 

When they found the templar, Cole became a force of fury unlike anything Amy had seen from him.

His anger frightened her, but the anguish and restlessness that had been building in him had scared her worse.

She was just as conflicted as the Inquisitor over which of the two men to listen to until Varric took Cole aside, handed him Bianca, and told him he'd help him get revenge.

Amy stared, eyes wide. “Varric, stop!” She shouted, lunging for the crossbow. “You may have turned your love into a weapon, but I will not let you do the same to mine.”

The dwarf glared at her, said something under his breath, but she was watching Cole’s shoulders, the line of his arms shaking as they clutched the massive crossbow.

“Cole, don't do this! You aren't a murderer. Remember? Remember what you told me?”

“I need this,” he said, not looking at her, body coiled like a spring.

“Trust me,” Varric hissed under his breath, but Amy wouldn't stop.

“He will _hate_ this! Once he's calmed down, once he's thinking straight, he'll hate you for letting him do this! He'll hate himself even more!” She was shouting, her throat raw with the force of it. “You can't let him do this!”

Solas had taken one of her arms, and Lahria the other, and they were pulling her back.

“No! Don't!” She threw herself forward, but they kept her back.

Varric put a hand on the small of Cole's back, guiding him forward.

 _Don't do this!_ She shouted loud in her mind.

And again, he responded. _I need to._

 

\---

 

Bianca clicked but the man wasn't dead. Cole stared at the weapon, feeling worse than he had before. What had I almost done?

“Feel any better?” asked Varric.

“No.”

“You can't just make it all go away. I learned that the hard way.” _Blood on his hands. Bartrand sinking slowly to the floor. Shared blood, bound by it, thicker than water, and it was soaking into his shoes._

The templar ran, and Cole let him. He had no closure, no release, no end to the aching. _Why does it still hurt so badly?_

“What do you need, Kid?” Varric asked when it was over.

“Amy.” Cole had his arms wrapped around himself in a hug, his shoulders shaking. “I need Amy.”

Varric steered him back through Redcliffe to where they had left the others.

“Let me go!” Amy shouted, kicking Solas’ knees. He winced. “Cole needs me! He needs-“

“Cole!” Lavellan gasped, letting her arms slacken where they held Amy back.

The boy’s head was bowed, his hat hiding his entire face. He shuffled slowly beside Varric.

Amy yanked herself free and ran to him, coming to a stop before touching him.

“Cole, are you-“

He sank into her, arms coming away from his chest to wrap all the way around her, squeezing her close, the brim of his hat hiding them both.

She whispered to him and swept the tears away with her fingers, feeling him quake in her hands.

 _I've got you_ , she said loud enough in her mind to be heard over the chaos roaring in his. _Let's go home._

“I didn't kill him.” His whisper shook in the air between them. “You were right. I didn't... I don't want to be that.”

She kissed his cheek, her lips coming away salty with his tears. “Walk with me?”

He nodded, clinging to her arm when she stepped away, never letting go. 


	22. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh finally we're done with the sad stuff. ONTO FLUFF.

“It still hurts,” he whispered in the dark. They'd been back in Skyhold for a while now, nearly a week and a half since the amulet didn't work. _When does it get better?_

“I know it does.” She ran her hands over his knuckles. They sat on the floor in their space, Cole curled in on himself. Amy sat close, her arm tucked into his.

"I can still feel myself dying, like knives in my gut," he whispered. "I had forgotten until I saw him and now I can't forget."

Amy was quiet, remembering.

Cole spoke, his eyes going wide as he turned to her. "An axe through the door. Blood in my mouth, thick like jam left out all night, tastes like darkness feels. Metallic ringing in the back of my head. Getting louder. Always louder.”

“Cole.”

“But that’s not what killed you. Going mad, seeing things, hearing voices. Always muttering, eyes turning silver. Mother weeping. Sister Anna’s soothing voice. ‘It’ll be alright, child. Here, drink your milk.’ Sweet with too much honey, sweet to cover the bitter taste of almond.”

“Cole, please.”

“You were _six_.” His voice breaks then, his eyes wide.

“Does it help to focus on my pain instead of yours?” It came out harder than she meant it.

“But after was worse. You tried to make it better but it wasn’t. They wanted Amy back.”

Amy closed her eyes. “Cole. Stop.”

He stopped, swallowing, ducking his head.

She took a deep breath and rubbed his back. “After was worse. I needed them to love me, but I could hear their thoughts. I knew exactly how I failed every single one of them. When Sister Miranda was afraid of me, when she wondered if she should have killed me, when she thought about finishing the job because I forgot to blink, because I didn’t understand, because I read a thought out loud I wasn’t meant to hear – I heard it. I felt it.”

“It still hurts you.”

Amy nodded. “But it’s better now. You will be better, Cole.”

“But it _hurts_. How do you make it stop hurting.”

“By doing things that feel good instead.”

“Like what?”

“Like helping. Like reading with Cassandra, or…” She settled back, folded her hands under her chin and pulled images from his mind, echoing them back to him so he would feel them. “Cards with Varric. Playing with Tabitha and the boys.”

“Being with you?”

Amy bit her lip to hold back her smile, feeling warm to her toes.

He felt it, too – not her feelings, but his own, like a door to a dark room cracking open to the sunlight. His eyes widened as he saw her with eyes that were a bit more human than they had been the week before.

Straight brown hair that curled slightly at the tips, half-loose and hanging around her face. Her features were wide and soft, making her look like gentleness. All of her clothes were too big and they made her seem small, delicate, something to hold carefully in your hands, something to take care of. When she got the courage to lift her eyes back to his – eyes the color of her boots, framed in sweet curling lashes – he had to swallow. But she dropped them again, frowning at his chest.

 _Amy_. He suddenly wanted to touch her. Was her hair as soft as it looked? Were her eyelashes soft, too? Cole wanted to feel her heartbeat, feel her breath, have her face close to his, have her fingers intertwined with his. He remembered holding her before he left and when he gave her the ribbon and the night she let herself need him and that long march back to Skyhold and his heart jerked in his chest, his hands shook and he found himself reaching for her, wanting to pull her in close and not let go.

“It changed color.”

“What?” He pulled his hand back, suddenly nervous. _She said she likes touching me_ , he thought, _but… but what if she doesn’t. What if she changed her mind_? That would hurt in a way it wouldn’t have before because he hadn’t _wanted_ before. Not like this.

“Your…” She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.” Suddenly everything she said felt like the most important thing.

She frowned at him, tilting her head the way she did sometimes when she was listening hard to his thoughts.

Cole wished he had learned how to shield them.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m…” He shook his head quickly. “I’m fine.”

Amy stared at his chest like she was searching for something. “Maybe Varric was right about you becoming more human. Maybe that’s why.” She took a breath and smiled at him. “You hear people. I see them. And what I saw in you before was a piercing ice-white star. But now, it’s… turned a rosy pink, like white cherry wine, almost peach, like a sunset.” She looked up at him again. “It’s pretty.”

 _You’re pretty._ Cole’s hand was reaching out again, his thumb brushing against her jaw. His fingers looked so dirty and worn beside her cheek. He took his hand back, tucking it in the crook of his knee.

“Does it still hurt?” She asked quietly.

Cole could feel it still, a sharp agony and the urge to sob. But… “You make it better.”

He could hear her pleasure at that, see it in the smile that made her eyes crinkle, the dark brown glittering in the low light. “How?”

_I don’t know. It’s just… you. Amy._

Another smile and he knew she heard him.

Her hand, small and warm, rested on his arm, rubbing little circles. “Does this make it better?”

Cole was flying. “Yes.”

She scooted closer, back where she was before, tucking her arm into his. “I can tell. Your star is _radiant_.”

He had never _felt_ this much at one time before. Not _his_ feelings. He’d felt others, but usually his own feelings were much quieter. _It’s so loud. Intense. Bright._ His body felt weak and his head was spinning with how close she was. How she leaned her head on his shoulder and _oh_ her hair against his cheek, even softer than it looked. _Overwhelming_. There was so much feeling in him so suddenly. _Storm winds buffeting a tree sideways. A deluge. A flood._ _Some miraculous force of nature overpowering him with_ \- Amy’s hand slipped down his arm and into his, their fingers mingling, and she hummed happily, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

Cole let his face rest against the part of her hair, the brim of his hat covering them, blocking out everything that wasn’t Amy. He watched her smaller thumb trace shapes on the linen wraps over his palms. He could feel her light touch through the fabric, tickling and slow.

He wanted more. He wanted to experience every single thing they had ever done or said or been together, but through this new lens, this new _potency_ to every experience.

Amy tilted her head up to him and drew her lower lip between her teeth, then smiled.

“Amy,” he said. His voice sounded nothing like his voice.

She shifted, letting go of his arm. _Come back._ But she pointed to their makeshift nest. “Lay down.”

He did, dropping onto the soft pile and setting his hat on a crate beside it.

Amy settled beside him, leaning against him. He held his breath as she tucked her body against his, nestled her face in his shoulder and twined her ankles around his. Sensation and softness, her heart so close to his, her song wrapping around the new one he had been hearing from himself for days. “Amy,” he said again.

“Cole.” She placed her hand over his heart and he wrapped his around hers.

He took uneven, trembling breaths and let his mind drift over every place her body touched his, every wash of her breath warming his hand.

 _This is beautiful._ He closed his eyes.

 

\---

 

Cole had fallen asleep.

Amy couldn't stop staring.

In all their nights together, he had never actually fallen asleep, especially not next to her. His hair was mussed across his face, his mouth slightly open, and his blonde lashes twitched against his cheek.

 _He's dreaming,_ she thought, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

He stirred with an unintelligible noise, and threw an arm across her stomach, wrapping himself around her body, his head heavy on her shoulder, body curled up against her.

She tried hard not to giggle, running her hands through his hair. She kissed his forehead.

 

\---

 

He opened his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Good morning.” Amy tucked his hair behind his ear.

“What... happened.”

She giggled. “You fell asleep.”

“I don't sleep.”

“Apparently you do.”

Cole frowned, then tilted his head to look at her. “Good morning.”

Amy smiled.

“Good morning.”


	23. Kissing

“Dorian,” said the spirit’s soft voice from somewhere near Dorian’s elbow. The mage tried not to jump too visibly.

“Hello, Cole.” The braid was back in the boy's hair, little blue bow peeking out beneath the hat. _Ugh, that hat_.

“You said I could ask you questions.”

Dorian sighed. “I did. Ask away.”

Normally, when Cole had a question, it all but burst from him. Now, he hesitated, fiddling with the wrappings on his hands. Dorian tried not to see how grey and dirty they were. _When was the last time someone washed his clothes? He probably doesn’t sweat, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get dirty. I’ll have to speak with Josephine about-_

“How do you kiss someone?” 

Dorian nearly dropped his book. “What the- is there someone you want to kiss?”

“Yes.”

The mage raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Hmm. Kissing. You just... kiss them.”

“But _how?_ ” There was the eager questioning Dorian was used to. “How do you make them hold still?”

Dorian chuckled. “Good question. Well, generally, it helps to slowly move into their space. Look them in the eyes and get closer to them. And if they don’t back away, you tilt your head, close your eyes, and…” He rubbed at his mustache. “It comes rather naturally, with practice. Just start by getting closer to them.”

Cole rose up on his knees, removing his hat and placing his hands on the arm of the chair. In a movement as swift and fluid as any Dorian had seen him perform in battle, Cole lifted himself into Dorian’s personal space, face inches from his. “Like this?”

All Dorian could see were wide clear-grey eyes.

He leaned away. “Cole…” The boy looked hurt. Dorian quickly continued, “Kissing is special, Cole. It’s only for people you love.”

Cole looked confused. “ _You_ kiss people you don’t love.”

There was an ache in Dorian’s heart at that, and from the sudden worry on Cole’s face, he knew the spirit had felt it. “Well, _you_ should only kiss people you love, Cole.”

“But I do love you, Dorian.”

He said it so simply, so innocently. _Oh, Cole_. Dorian couldn’t help the warm smile on his face or the rush of affection in his chest.

“And I love you, Cole.” Dorian gently ruffled the boy’s hair. “But kissing-love is different. It’s…” He frowned. “There are lots of different kinds of love. Family love, friend love, romantic love… I’m sure there are more. Amy could probably tell you more about it.”

At the girl’s name, Cole ducked his head and resumed fiddling with his hand wraps.

“And you should only kiss the people you romantic love. If they want to kiss you, too, that is. Really, I am not the person to ask about this.”

“Do you romantic-love me?”

Dorian chuckled. “No, dear boy. I do not.”

Cole fiddled with his hair. “Then… friend-love?”

“Yes.” Dorian smiled.

Cole suddenly beamed at him, eyes wide and glittering with happiness. Dorian had to laugh again, then said, “And, for friends or family, you can kiss them here.” He pressed a quick kiss to Cole’s forehead. “Or here.” And another to his cheek.

Cole’s smile got even wider.

“But only kiss _Amy_ on the lips.”

Cole _blushed_. Dorian didn’t know he was capable. The boy planted his ridiculous hat firmly on his head. He stood, smiling through his blush. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Anytime.”

Dorian leaned on the bannister and watched the boy as he ran through Solas’ room.

“Solas!” Cole shouted without stopping, barreling towards the elf.

“Yes?”

Cole threw his arms around Solas’, pinning them there, and kissed Solas on the cheek.

Dorian laughed out loud.

“What-“ Solas put a hand to his face, startled, as Cole backed away.

“I love you, Solas.”

“I… thank you, dahlen.”

Cole laughed happily, then dashed away.

 _Oh what have I done_ , Dorian thought, eyes watering from laughing so hard.

 

\---

 

“Varric!” Cole practically skipped through the door to Solas’ room.

The dwarf smiled, standing up and stretching over the pile of letters before him. “How’s it going, kid?”

Instead of an answer, Cole bent over and kissed him on the forehead.

Varric laughed. “What was that for?”

“I love you, Varric. And Dorian told me you kiss people you friend- or family-love on the head. Or cheek.”

Varric grinned. “Love you, too, Kid.”

Cole beamed.

“Did Dorian also explain that generally, you shouldn’t go around kissing people all the time?”

Cole’s smile wavered. “No.”

“I don’t mind, but some others might.”

Cole might have listened, but at that moment, Lavellan and Cassandra walked through the door, and he went bounding up to them.

Cassandra started to say, “Cole, what is it?” But was cut off by him standing on his toes and kissing her on the cheek. He then stepped to the side to kiss Lavellan on her cheek.

Cassandra’s entire face burned pink, from her ears to the tip of her nose.

Lavellan giggled as Cole tried to step back, but she took him by the shoulders and kissed him on the cheek, too.

Having regained her voice, Cassandra said loudly, “Cole. Never do that again.”

“Aw, come on, Seeker.” Varric joined the three of them. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Kissing someone on the face means you love them.” Cole said a little proudly.

Cassandra’s face went from pink to red. “Cole!”

But he was already dashing out of the main hall.


	24. Special

Cole was sleeping every night now, regularly, although it confused him every time. Amy had been sleeping less, watching him, feeling that warmth in his chest fill her up, reinforce her bones and blood and make her more real than anything ever had. Cuddling him had become a new obsession, curling in his arms, drawing near to his affection like seeking the heat of a fire in a snowstorm. She knew the shape of him, inside and out, knew how much of him was for her, knew his feelings were growing bigger and brighter every day.

 _Cole_. She put her hands on her face, smiling hard.

Quietly, a secret whispered into her palms, she said, “He’s in love with me.”

Amy quickly pulled all hint of the thought from her mind, not wanting Cole to ever catch a glimpse of it in her. The early beginnings of affection could be so easily scared away if she shined too bright a light on it. That had been one of the first things she learned after coming to this world – something Cole himself hadn’t figured out yet.

Amy huffed an affectionate sigh at the memory of all the couples Cole had tried to bring together, but had been too specific and had ended up embarrassing them apart. _I’ll have to work on that with him_ , she thought.

“I can do better,” Cole said as he climbed the stairs, and Amy stood to greet him, sensing that shimmering, shining thing in him that wore her name like Cole wore his hats. Always there. Fitting together. Never one without the other.

 _She likes my hat?_ He was puzzled, reading her but not seeing the full picture. Amy had gotten good at dodging him.

“I do like your hat.” Amy said.

When Cole didn’t immediately smile at that, Amy knew something was going to happen. There was determination in his shoulders as he came toward her, but he didn’t say anything.

_Only for her. Special. What will she do? Dorian didn’t mention this part. The wondering. What if she only friend-loves me? What if she shouts like Cassandra? What if what if what if. The answer to a question only I can ask. Only. Special. Amy._

She’d focused so intently on his thoughts, she hadn’t noticed how close they were standing until she felt the rough leather of his boots brush the tips of her toes.

Amy looked up into Cole’s face, his hat doming around them, creating a dark, warm place where only they existed.

“Cole?” She asked, something fluttering up her chest at the solemn gravity in his grey eyes.

 _Hold still_ , he was thinking. _Don’t back away_.

She didn’t move, and he swayed closer to her.

Dorian’s voice echoing in Cole’s mind.

 _Look them in the eyes and get closer to them. Tilt your head._ Cole tipped his face at an exaggerated angle. _Close your eyes_. And he closed his eyes.

Amy made a little gasp as soft lips pressed into hers, not moving, just the press of Cole’s lips against her mouth like a stamp. She saw the flutter of his eyelashes so close to her face, and felt him begin to smile against her mouth.

Then she heard Dorian’s voice in Cole’s mind again. _Only kiss people you love, Cole._

She closed her eyes and let her hands grasp at the front of Cole’s shirt, fingers tangling in the patches to hold him in place. His nose brushed against her cheek as his lips relaxed from their smile and he made the softest happy hum, the vibration tickling where their lips still pressed against each other.

She had seen people kiss – pairs of chantry sisters sharing sweet secret kisses in the garden, or hotter, darker kisses against the walls of the library, Dorian making the blond in his arms moan his name – neither had been quite like this. _Did those kisses feel like this?_ She wondered _. Did they feel like little sparks in your stomach? Like warmth and light and happy in your lungs?_

 _Warm and happy in her lungs_ , she felt Cole think, and that brightness in his chest for her grew brighter. _She’s happy I kissed her_.

Amy _was_ happy. Gloriously so. She had never realized she wasn’t happy until she _was._

 _I’m being kissed_ , she thought, feeling another happy hum from Cole along her lips. _A kiss that is mine. For me._

 _For you_. Cole’s thoughts and hers were interweaving, twirling together like two blue ribbons in the wind. _Special and just for you._

 _But... aren’t we supposed to be moving more?_ She thought, frowning slightly. She’d never seen a kiss where the two people just stood there, faces pressed together.

Cole pulled away, worry on his face. His head was still tilted at that odd angle.

Amy put a hand to his cheek and righted his face and he smiled, turning into her hand a little. Her other hand was still fisted in his shirt, not letting him pull away.

“I think,” she said, licking her lips, and dropping her eyes to his mouth. “I think kissing is supposed to go like this.”

She used her hand on his face to pull him back to her, and she parted her lips against his mouth. When he didn’t open in response, she pulled away just enough to run her thumb over his lower lip and tug it downward. He gasped slightly, and it was enough for Amy to kiss him like she’d seen others kiss, lips slipping around each other, lightly drawing his mouth into hers.

Cole gasped again and it drew breath from her lungs, whistling around her teeth into his open mouth. His warm happy hums became sounds of wonder as she slowly drew his lower lip between hers, then came back for more. She tried to read his thoughts but all she could gather were sensations, colors, and emotions washing over him one after another.

Amy felt his arms gently circle her, press her close along his body in an embrace as they kissed and kissed and kissed. Real kisses, warm and tender and slow, lightning shooting through her body at the feel of him and the burning warmth of the affection in his chest – the _love_ in his chest – that belonged to her. Her hand moved from his cheek into his hair beneath the hat.

_Only kiss people you love, Cole._

Both of them smiled against each other’s mouths at the thought.

Because they were.


	25. Loved

“Dorian.” Cole’s voice was a whisper made of awe. The boy had his fingers placed delicately over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Yes?” Dorian lifted his eyes from his book. The candles on his bedside were guttering, and it was almost time for him to give up reading and go to sleep.

“You didn’t tell me a kiss would feel like this.”

The mage’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Oh? And who have you been kissing?”

“Amy.” Cole said the girl’s name like it was a miracle.

Dorian smirked. “I thought as much.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” He was still absently running his fingertips over his lips.

“I suppose.” Dorian then added internally, _Not like anyone else is volunteering._

Cole frowned. “He’ll come back. He just needs-“ He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

Dorian laughed. “Like that ever stopped you before.”

The spirit removed his hat and set it on knob of the footboard like a coat rack, then climbed into the blankets beside Dorian, curling his body along the mage’s side. Dorian absently stroked his hair. “Wouldn’t you rather be with Amy right now?”

Cole smiled but said, “No. It’s too bright.”

“I see.” Dorian didn’t see. He tried to read his book, but his eyes kept drifting to Cole’s face, and the gentle smile there. Occasionally the boy would close his eyes, run the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, and hum softly. 

 _It’s nauseating_. Dorian glowered. A smaller, truer voice in the back of his mind whispered, _I want to be loved like that._

One of Cole’s skinny hands wrapped around Dorian’s arm. “ _I_ love you, Dorian.”

He sighed. “You’re so excessively sweet, Cole. It gives me a toothache.”

Cole scrunched his nose but didn’t answer. He wanted to tell Dorian – but Amy had said no. Human love was complicated, and they needed to find each other on their own. Instead, he sighed and snuggled close to Dorian, his head on the other man’s shoulder.

“I love you, Dorian,” he said again.

Cole felt the tension in Dorian's chest ease a little.

 _True friends are hard to come by,_ Dorian had told Lavellan. _But here I have found so many real, true friends_. Dorian kissed the crown of Cole’s head. _And I will take care of them. All of them._

 

\--- 

 

Lavellan and the few leaving Skyhold with her were readying their gear. With every excursion from the fortress, the small party of lovers come to see them off seemed to grow.

And today, nearly all of them were staring at Cole.

And Amy.

He had his hands on her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks as he kissed her, a tall skinny thing with an overpowering hat arching over her smaller frame, her fists clutching his shirt.

Occasionally they would stop and stare at each other, neither speaking, before kissing again.

Lavellan watched them with her hands over her mouth, cheeks red from smiling.

The two kissed like they were the first people in the world to ever kiss, surprise and wonder and joy evident in their soft and fumbling movements.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I think it's time for you to go?”

She shook her head. “A few more seconds.”

He laughed and hugged her to his side, kissing the top of her head. “You're as bad as Josephine.”

“ _Look at them!_ ”

“I can see.”

 

\---

 

“So does Amy know you love her?”

“Yes.” Cole’s voice always got warm and breathless when he talked about Amy.

“Really?” Varric grinned. “And did she say it back?”

Cole stopped walking. “I didn’t … _say_ it.”

“Kid…” Varric rubbed his forehead. “Girls need you to say it. So there’s no confusion.”

“ _Clutching at his shirt so he won’t go away, won’t fade away. Stay. Stay for me. The brightness in his chest so light, so warm – a love just for me. The only one I’ve ever had_.” He adjusted his hat. “She knows.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading his fic, for all of your comments and art and encouragement!! 
> 
> I think that this is where I'm going to end it. Cole and Amy in love and happy. I have a ton more ideas for them, but other fics need my attention. Maybe I'll come back to this someday. For now, I'm calling this the end.
> 
> After this chapter is gonna be a "deleted scenes" chapter of stuff I didn't use that is still kind of interesting, haha, as well as where they go after this. 
> 
> Again, THANK YOU for your love for these two!!!


	26. Deleted Scenes / Extras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some random bits/extras that didn't fit with the rest of the fic.

**Deleted half-scene: Cole asking Varric about how to sex Amy**

“Varric?” Cole rocked back on his heels as he rearranged the tiny figurines the dwarf had placed on the mantlepiece.

“Mm?” He didn’t look up from his writing.

“I had a question. I asked Dorian, but he told me to ask you.”

“Oh did he?”

“Well, he laughed and said, ‘I’m afraid I have no experience in that area. Perhaps Varric could offer some assistance.’” Cole’s impression of the mage’s voice made Varric grin. “But he does have experience. A lot of it.” He rubbed a hand along the rim of his hat.

“This I have to hear.” Varric dropped his pen, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. “Hit me.”

“I don't want to hit you.”

A sigh. “Ask your question.”

_(later decided that as sex is a fully physical bodily reaction, Cole and Amy would really have no interest)_

* * *

**Deleted scenes: Tragic AU where Cole is made more spirit-like**

Solas guides Cole, speaking low and soft in his ear, asking him to forgive, to feel the other man’s pain. Amy watches, nervous. _This is good_ , she thinks. _This is right. Cole needs this_.

When he returns to her, his eyes seem more grey than blue, his voice is softer, more lyrical.

And the star inside of him has turned to glass.

She stares at his chest, no longer feeling the heat of that light, not understanding the form it takes now.

“Cole?”

Cole stands still. His hands don’t reach to fiddle with their wrappings. He doesn’t reach for Amy, either.

“Yes?”

She places a hand on his arm and he doesn’t move.

“Are you alright?”

He doesn’t meet her eyes.

“Yes. I’m… better. Much better.”

But he wouldn’t look at her.

 

\--- 

 

“I can make you forget. Then it won’t-“

“Don’t.” Her voice was thick with held back tears. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Why do you want to remember him when it hurts you so much?”

She bit her lip. _Him. Not me._ Breathing hard, she felt the last of her hope break in half. Cole – _her Cole_ – with his constant whispered _“I am Cole. I am me.”_ But now he wasn’t. He was gone.

“Everyone always forgot him,” Amy said, bunching her skirt in her hands. “Even if they didn’t want to. Except for me. I was the only one who never forgot. And I never will. Even if he did.”

“You are angry with me.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to bring him back.”

One hot tear turned cold in the mountain air as it fell down her face. “Can you?”

Cole shook his head. “No.”

* * *

 

**Deleted scene: Amy thinking about those who love her**

_(scrapped due to wayyy too much 'telling' not enough 'showing'... this was originally a lead-up to Cole kissing her)_

Others in the Inquisition had love kindling in their hearts for her, and each small tender feeling was grounding her, tying her to this place.

It wasn’t like at the Chantry. These people knew what she was and wanted her to stay regardless. She didn’t have to subsist on the echoes of love between others, or the small flicker of obligated love from the woman who tried too hard to be her mother. No. Here she was accepted. Wanted.

Varric had taken her in as he had the others, building a family of friends. Solas had taken her in as he had done with Cole, a mentor and a guide. There were so many flavors of love, so many different hearts learning to care for her.

And Cole. The brightness in his heart burned sweeter than the others, and warmer, and more uniquely _hers_. This was a love she had seen between others, but had never had directed at her. She was almost afraid to want it

* * *

**From Tumblr: A prompt in an ask - Things you said too quietly.**

_(set pre-ribbon gift)_

Amy hides her thoughts - swift, slippery things dancing away from Cole when he reaches for them. But when she's laying still, focusing on her steady breathing, trying to imitate sleep, sometimes succeeding, she's unable to hide them well.

_What do the Iron Bull's horns feel like? Rough? Fuzzy like antlers? Want to touch them... What if he thinks it's weird..._

Cole smiles, rocking back, his knees against his chest, hands locked at his ankles, watching her face relax.

_So warm here now. Cole fixed the crack in the window, didn't he?  So warm now._

For you, Cole thinks, smiling at how she uncurls in the warmth, even though she isn't truly bothered by the cold, she enjoys playing pretend.

_Cole. Oh, Cole. Sweet, beautiful Cole._

He smiles so hard, pressing his teeth against the bones of his wrist, tapping his toes on the floor.

_Tomorrow I should be brave and hold his hand. Palm on palm, sweet and warm and gentle._

He laughs a little, quiet, and reaches out to her, walking his hand along her makeshift pillow to find where her fingers are curled. Before his hand can reach hers, it curls into a fist.

_No. Rejection. Misunderstanding. The wrong reasons. I've never seen him want to._

She draws her fist nearer to her.

There is sorrow and pain in her now, like echoes in a deep, dark well.

Cole walks his hand the remaining few finger-steps to hers, and rests his hand against her fist, knuckles to knuckles.

Amy's eyes flutter open. She sees him smiling, one arm around his knees, smile hidden behind his arm.

She looks away. "Good night, Cole."

"Good night, Amy."

Eyes closed, her thoughts are much more closely guarded now.

And Cole doesn't move away.

* * *

 

**Posted elsewhere:[Forgot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3581382)**

_Sister Miranda comes to Skyhold and doesn't remember Amy._

(Yep. Her entire chantry family previously have no memory of her at all.)

* * *

 

**What happened to Amy/Cole after this?**

In my Under One Banner canon, Corypheus attacks Skyhold, and Cole is there with Amy, and he tries to bind both of them. Cole is more human, and Amy is wearing the amulet that didn't work for Cole. Cole also beats the shit out of some red templars and other baddies trying to get at her, and he barricades them both in a side room (along with some of the civilians/refugees... like Dagna and the serving girls and Kieran) and becomes their one-man defense team until the main team takes out Corypheus and all is well again.

I don't think Amy and Cole can ever die, so after the game ends, they adopt some refugee orphan kids, children of Inquisition soldiers who died along the way. They spend the rest of their lives (their long, long lives) travelling around Thedas, making a home for roughly thirty years at a time, adopting kids and just spread love and compassion to anyone who needs it. They run clinics and take care of kids and help animals and generally are a force of powerful good in the world for as long as it can last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> My dragon age tumblr: [andrastesass](http://andrastesass.tumblr.com)


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